Not Your Usual Lion
by BObsessedryis
Summary: This is a reboot of an old fanfic I took down over a year ago. Mr. Gold and Marie/Belle, written before she was on OUAT; now it's AU. Enjoy my take on Rumpelstilskin and Marie/Belle's story, and what happens when a carpenter's daughter makes a deal with the town's devil. Reviews welcome.
1. Chapter 1

Hello All,

"Not Your Usual Lion" is back. I've edited the writing a little (not changing any plot points, aside from making this T. I hope you enjoy the improved writing, and the characters you know and love (Including Marie, an OC.)

I do not own any characters from OUAT, Disney, ABC, etc. I have, however, created a series of my own characters and my own alternate universe take on OUAT (Although, I called Beauty and the Beast before it was on the show, when this Fan Fic was first published over a year ago! Just saying… I'm proud of myself.)

Without further adieu, enjoy!

"_You be the prince and I'll be the princess, it's a love story baby just say 'yes.'"_

A hand found the cursed alarm as Marie rolled her eyes, letting out an irritated groan. The idea of princes and princesses made her usually bad morning all the more terrible. Who believed in happy endings these days?

She made a pot of coffee in their small kitchen, leaving enough for her father when he woke up. She grabbed an almost stale muffin and scurried out the door. She was soon at the front entrance to the shop; about to unlock it, she heard a slick "_tsk tsk"_ just about a whisper behind her.

Nearly choking on the small mouthful of banana-chocolate chip pastry, she coughed out,

"Hello Mr. Gold."

During her pause the narrow framed man spoke, "Miss Dupont, I would appreciate my _employees_ be on time." His voice was calm, quiet, smooth. He spoke as one who was used to being listened to…and obeyed.

The young woman nodded quickly, causing a bit of her long, wavy brown hair to fall in front of her face. She was about to move it when his hand was already there. The long, thin fingers tucked her locks behind her ear. At the sudden closeness of Mr. Gold, she gulped and her heart rate hastened. She gulped, not quite audibly, staring at him with eyes slightly wide. His hand fell to the cane in front of him, resting both hands on one another. Somehow, it made him look like a frailer man, but Marie knew better; she knew her fear was not only valid but necessary in this town.

"Yes, Mr. Gold. My sincerest apologies…" She hesitated, "I was up late taking care of my father."

A small smile appeared on the man's thin lips as he saw the exhaustion in her eyes and heard the sorrow in her quiet voice. He decided he would make his point all the clearer. Given her particular vulnerability at the moment, he was aware of his power. He indeed held all the cards—four aces at that.

For a moment, Marie thought he was sympathetic, but then that thin smirking mouth opened, "Of course, my _dear_. I am sure you were up late being an obedient child. Still, per our agreement, I should think you would take this job a bit more seriously."

Mr. Gold slowly moved away from Marie, and she was grateful for the distance. He pushed the door open, he had already unlocked it before her tardy arrival. He stepped inside, using his cane slightly more than necessary. Although Marie was bitter about the situation, she felt sorry for her new "boss," although she decided that the term did not entirely apply to one who was not paying for their worker's services. Mr. Gold continued to refer to her as an "employee," however.

"I take my job very seriously," she said quietly behind him, still thinking about the tight control he had over her life, meanwhile her sick father was in bed at home. Couldn't someone recognize how hard she tried and how tired she was?

"I know, Miss Dupont. That is why I have allowed you to continue to work off your father's debt." He turned to face her, his eyes dark, but the penetrating gaze slightly softer than usual.

"Thank you." Marie muttered feeling irritated. She should not be grateful. The so-called debt had been accrued when her father had offered to fix the damaged clock tower at the town's center and could not stay true to his contract. He foolishly took the money before the job was completed. He had tried everything he knew, but the clock practically _refused_ to work. That was over five years ago. Mr. Gold was a businessman and treated her father's should-be payment as a loan—and loans collect interest.

Marie found the duster in the back corner of the shop and moved around the place to clean the antiques.

Mr. Gold took a seat at one of the nicer, hand-carved wooden desks near the back room. He had an office in the back section of the shop, but hardly ever used it now that Marie worked in his pawnshop. He sat, organizing his bookkeeping in a nice, leather-bound notebook. While Marie was busy, he periodically allowed his eyes to shift up from their work to watch her graceful figure as she cleaned. He was sure to keep his gazes short, for fear she would realize what little power she could have in their relationship. Instead, he glanced quickly, as if to check that she wasn't breaking anything. When she did accidentally hit something, or caused any amount of ruckus, he released a low groan of annoyance to keep her on her toes. If she actually jumped, he considered it a lovely day.

He enjoyed the way she was always nervous when he was around; her glorious combination of fear and unquenchable bitterness made him feel mighty in her presence. It was a power he enjoyed. Truly just one day with her in his shop would have satisfied the debt he held over her father. Of course, that was not the _deal_ they had made, and Mr. Gold was the kind of man who kept his promises.


	2. Chapter 2

…

Marie woke up again to her radio alarm chiming:

"_When I'm alone I wonder.  
Is there a spell that I'm under,  
Keeping me from seeing the real thing?_

_Love hurts.  
But sometimes it's a good hurt.  
And it feels like I'm alive."_

She had intentionally set her alarm fifteen minutes earlier to make sure she got to Mr. Gold's shop on time, early in fact.

The lyrics buzzed in her brain as she went about her almost spiritual morning routine of coffee and pastry. For some reason, the idea of being under a "spell" was intriguing, although she was convinced that if she was under anything, it was a curse. Her walk down the few blocks to the pawnshop was less brisk than usual. As she slowed her pace, she noticed a few morning routines that others had.

She saw Sheriff Graham strolling, glaring about broodingly, on his way to Ruby's corner diner. She watched Ruby put out the "Open" sign just in time for the officer approaching. They both exchanged a friendly nod and headed into the diner together. Marie wondered if Graham had ever fallen under Ruby's spell. There was that work again! The thought of their nightly escapades made her laugh lightly as she continued on her way.

Soon, she was in the small shop cleaning the many knick-knacks and antiques. Having worked with Mr. Gold for about four weeks now, every day seemed more or less the same. The fact that it felt routine, however, did not mean it felt _normal._ She doubted she could ever really get used to working for the silky-tongued man. He was truly impish. She had seen how he looked at Regina, how he looked at everyone—as though he were better than.

While wiping the dust from a strange cement garden gnome, she heard the small bell ring, signifying a customer. She turned quickly to help them, before registering that it was only her _employer._

"Good morning, Miss Dupont." He said as he walked over to her, his cane clunking on the floor.

"Oh, good morning sir," she replied.

"Why the formality?" His face was practically expressionless. His deep eyes were another matter—they twinkled as he watched her. She felt a chill run through her.

"You continue to call me Miss Dupont. You could call me Marie. Might as well, since I'll be here… a while." Marie continued to clean as if nothing was happening, as if her indentured servitude was indeed normal and a thing to accept.

Mr. Gold felt offended by her decision to ignore him. He was used to being the center of attention, whether or not it was positive attention did not matter. He guessed it was mostly his financial power that was the source of all the stares, and the fear, just a wee bit of fear.

He walked over to his new desk in the main part of the store. "Well, _Marie_ it is then." He set things down, looking up only to give a thin smile to his little helper.

"Thank you, Mr. Gold…" She paused, and looked over to her well-dressed employer. "Do you have a first name?"

The small smile quickly broadened, revealing small dimples in the corner of his aged skin. "Yes. But Mr. Gold will do."

Marie smiled, it felt like something a conservative man might say. She guessed, however, Mr. Gold had other reasons. Still, she was pretty sure he was trying to make a bit of a joke.

Cleaning and organizing hardly took her any time. She knew her way around the shop and a duster and was done before lunch. Mr. Gold seemed equally bored. The night before, she had thought that maybe if she had to spend all this time with the man, it would be worth getting to know him. She had little choice in the matter. Her father was too sick to fix clocks, spending almost all of the day in bed. When there was clearly no work to be done, Marie walked over to Gold's desk with a plan.

"What should I do now sir—Mr. Gold."

He looked up at her through his thin, dusty brown hair. At her open question, a number of possible options came to mind and he toyed with the idea of giving any of the various responses. Given his image within the town, however, he thought his darker thoughts better unspoken.

"I have to go speak with a few people about their _arrangements_ after lunch." The look of glee was hard to suppress and Marie noted it, "However, we could get lunch together."

She was about to protest that she had no money, but Mr. Gold calmly raised a hand. His fingers were long and thin, and Marie momentarily remembered the last time he was so close to her and fear welled up with in her for a moment. As it subsided, he spoke.

"I will buy you lunch. Once a month. My _treat._"

Marie noticed a look in his eyes she had seen only once before, and despite herself, nodded, "sure."

If nothing else, her plan to get to know him better might prove useful and, if she could do her best to learn to tolerate their agreement, perhaps even a not altogether un-enjoyable experience.

…

The knock on their small, two-bedroom home was quiet but unhesitant. A sixteen year old Marie, brown wavy hair a bit frizzier, opened the door to a long and lean wispy haired pawn broker. He held his cane firmly as he looked down at Marie. "Miss Dupont, I presume." The thin lips formed a thin smile.

Mr. Gold had come to retrieve what was rightfully his, or better, to make a new deal. He felt the almost childlike joy bubble up inside of him. He wished he could jump and click his heels, but for his injured leg. In that moment, the cane was truly superfluous.

"Mr…Mr. Gold. It's late. My father is in bed."

The man standing opposite of her let his shoulders slump ever so slightly. He was feigning exhaustion, and she took the bait.

"Did you walk here, sir?" She asked unsuspectingly.

Mr. Gold stood a little straighter again. "Yes, Miss Dupont. My shop is not too far from here so I thought I would come by after work. Your father is in bed quite early, dear."

At his caring tone, Marie suddenly felt safe to let go a little. "Please, come in." She walked into the kitchen near the front door. Following her innocent invitation, she offered him more hospitality. "Would you like tea, sir?" Perhaps if she was aware of all his intentions, she might have slammed the door in his face. But, Marie was a gentle, kind-hearted child, not without a bit of fire, and extremely witty.

"Please." He walked over to the small dining room table and pulled out two of the wooden chairs. As he scanned the area, he noticed small dust spots where dishes and paintings and other trinkets had once been. He smiled to himself, knowing he had purchased much of these things in order to absolve Mr. Dupont of only a fraction of his debt. He wondered how much the old man had told his beautiful daughter about, and she _was_ beautiful. He guessed, given her somewhat warm though shocked welcome, she knew very little of the current circumstances. Her lack of knowledge was the great secret to the power he now had over her.

She came into the dining room with a small blue teapot and mismatched teacups. She poured for Mr. Gold before herself, and handed him a small cup with sugar cubes in it. "It's green tea. No caffeine." She smiled kindly. The man took two sugars and let them dissolve some on their own before stirring.

"Green tea is my favorite. Particularly fruit flavors. I find it…soothing." He took a sip, and smiled gently at her. "Ah, raspberry. Perfect." He took another sip before setting his cup aside for a moment.

Marie almost laughed. The man before her was _strange_. She had heard the town talk about him, always in hushed voices. He was the wealthiest person around, living in a large estate a few miles outside of town. He owned a pawnshop in town; one that Marie had rarely seen a person enter. As the thought crossed her mind, she let the town's gossip fill her head with wild fantasies about what Mr. Gold _really_ did. Some said he worked the black markets. This was plausible, given his pawnshop. Others said the government, as if he were once a spy of sorts. Marie always doubted this one, and seeing the almost frail man before her, knew he could never have been a physical threat. Some said the IRS. The latter was the one most people agreed with and thus let their righteous hatred grow. Marie had her doubts again because he never left the town. He was a wealthy man who was hardly ever caught actually doing work. He seemed comfortable enough, and in that instant Marie envied his wealth. Her own family issues were becoming more and more burdensome to the intelligent and driven girl. In fact, she had heard one of the old women who were often at the diner comment that Marie was developing an "attitude." A sideways smirk formed on Marie's lips at the thought, but her eyes appeared to be lost in thought.

Mr. Gold cleared his throat and pulled Marie back to reality. "How is your father these days?"

Marie let out a sigh in response, "Well, the doctors say he is worse than before, but stable enough. He's been this way for a few months now, so he can't work." She took a sip, and felt like whoever Mr. Gold really was, she didn't care. For the moment, he was listening to her. "He tells me he did some 'spring cleaning' to get rid of all the junk in our house. He gave away things I had given him, things that belonged to my mother, and our television. I know he isn't cleaning. He is selling them because he isn't able to do much besides rest. He won't even let me help him." She sounded exasperated, and a few tears formed in her eyes.

Mr. Gold reached in his charcoal suit pocket and pulled out a light blue handkerchief. Marie thought it clashed with his darker suit, but as he reached out his hand, she took it from him anyway. She padded her eyes a moment, before continuing,

"I'm sorry, sir. You don't need to hear all this."

Mr. Gold's face looked solemn, as if empathizing with the poor girl. "No, my dear. I don't need to. I want to." She looked at him and could tell he honestly wanted to know. She felt like someone was finally able to listen and help her. Mr. Gold was a man with means. Perhaps he…perhaps he could do something for their family. She would do _anything_ to help her father.

"Sir. Could you… could you help us?" She almost choked on the words, and Mr. Gold looked instantly deep in thought. Marie thought she saw something glow in his eyes, or that his face suddenly looked much less sullen.

After a few moments, he took a sip of tea and responded, his soft Scottish accent almost soothing.

"I think I can. I'm no knight in shining armor, mind you, my dear. I help people, but I often profit from the arrangements I make." He took another drink, allowing his words to sink in.

Marie gulped. She thought a while, and realizing that this man was being surprisingly honest with her, she gave a nod. "I know you have a business to run, sir."

Mr. Gold thought she was behaving quite maturely for a sixteen year old, though no less naïve.

"I do. But I can make you a proposition. I'll give your father seven years to pay off his debt. If that doesn't work out, we can meet again to discuss alternative options." He smiled broadly, revealing deep dimples in his olive skin.

Marie gave a nod. "That seems fair. Okay." She smiled almost as broadly.

Mr. Gold quickly finished his tea and stood to leave. Marie stood quickly and without thinking or attempting to control herself, she hugged Mr. Gold, her head just coming to his chin.

The old man was taken aback by her joyous reaction, and was almost literally knocked off his feet. Once he came to himself, he let a chuckle escape his lips. "I am more than happy to work with you, Miss Dupont." He said kindly.

Marie squeezed a little before letting g, replying, "Please, call me Marie." She took a small step back so she could look at him again. The kindness she had heard in that smooth voice was not reflected in his eyes. Those eyes had seen more than she had, they knew more than she did. They seemed to express an unearthly gaiety. Marie took another step back and felt a chill crawl down her spine. She looked at Mr. Gold, and recalled the fear everyone seemed to have of him. She was suddenly aware that she had made a deal with a man who did god-knows-what and practically owned the whole damn town.

"Marie, I am certain I will see you around Storybrooke.." He smiled again, dimples returning. Before, the small divots had made him seem kinder, gentler, more human. Now they made him look devilish and sinister.

"Yes. Good night sir." He walked to leave, and stopped in the doorway so that she could not close the door without hitting him. There, he paused and turned to her.

"Marie, it would be better to just call me Mr. Gold." He smirked and left, allowing her to finally close the door.

…

During the weeks and the years that followed, Marie would remember his _specific_ words. Whenever she heard his name or saw him walking the streets of Storybrooke, they rang in her head. These words now felt like a curse over her, the very words that drained her of time to do the things she cared about. Back then, at sixteen, she had not realized what Mr. Gold had meant.

Over the years, she wondered if he really knew how events would unfold. As she accepted his invitation to go to lunch, the phrase flashed inside her mind. "_I am more than happy to work with you, Miss Dupont."_


	3. Chapter 3

((An old abridged response when this was originally posted: The title is a somewhat obscure hint as to what that may be…I'd give a cyber chocolate chip cookie to whoever messaged me what that is.))

…

Marie put the library's tattered _Wuthering Heights_ away before spotting the Scottish man in a booth sitting in the back corner of the small diner. It was their second monthly luncheon. She recalled that the first was pleasant, if not a bit awkward. She had no idea what to talk about with Mr. Gold. Her father had seemed like a mostly-off-limits topic, given there was little to update on and she didn't trust Mr. Gold with that sort of information anymore. Since the first lunch, she had tried to talk to him over the four weeks or so about various things in his past. He had either been too "busy" to give sufficient answers or said they would talk more at their lunch "meeting." The month that passed was better than her first few weeks working at the pawnshop. Unfortunately, it was still a very time consuming job. Although she quickly ran out of things to do on her daily checklist, Mr. Gold had a knack for finding odd jobs for her to complete. Sometimes she wondered if he put more energy into thinking of things for her to do than she spent doing them.

Marie realized as she walked over to the caramel-eyed gentleman that the diner was empty aside from the pair and Ruby, "Red" as Marie still thought of her. The two had been childhood friends, growing apart as Ruby chose various _extra-curricular_ activities and Marie got more interested in her studies. They were still polite and there was no bad blood between them, just less in common than when they were younger.

Mr. Gold's eyes slowly peeled away from the window where he watched Regina's boy Henry bounce around outside, looking most ecstatic. Mr. Gold had a very knowing smile on his face, but his glorious distraction had arrived and so his _other _plans would have to wait.

"Good day, Miss Dupont." His long-fingered hand gestured to the booth across from him.

Marie rolled her eyes, sitting down. "Do you really have to greet me that way? You call me Marie all the time." Ruby brought over a cup of coffee for Marie per Mr. Gold's previous instructions.

Marie thanked their waitress and looked at her boss quizzically. Mr. Gold did not smile this time, and waited for Ruby to walk back behind the counter before responding. "I like to keep formalities around town. I don't want people to think I play…_favorites_ with any of my customers, employees, or various _associates_." He took a long sip of his coffee.

The wavy-haired brunette eyed him a moment. She was beginning to realize that he always left longer pauses when he wanted her to weigh all of his words carefully. Although she considered it a manipulative trick, it had the desired effect: it made her dwell on certain things. What did he mean by "favorite," for example. She took a sip of coffee, having not added any sugar or cream. She was getting too addicted to the stuff to waste energy covering its strong taste before injecting it into her system. She simply needed the substance to run these days.

"I guess that makes sense." She agreed vocally, though not entirely. Mr. Gold seemed to notice by cocking his head slightly, but decided against that route of conversation. They had various topics to discuss that he preferred instead. He had become privy to Marie's attempts at friendship, or at least mutual respect. The girl was sweet, even to him. Her kindness left him feeling oddly powerful and yet not wanting to use that power too maliciously in her direction. Of course, _he_ would argue that none of his plans were malicious. He was merely a man of ambition and a man who thought more about future gain than current loss. He was a man of so much more, but that information was too precious to him to share and so limited to the townspeople of Storybrooke. The curse had worked magnificently—they knew nothing of their previous existence, nor his.

He finally chimed in, "I think it best. Now, let us enjoy our lunch." He lifted a menu and watched Marie hesitantly examine the contents. They both knew it was a pointless ritual. Having lived in the town her whole life, she memorized the options. She assumed Mr. Gold had as well.

She quickly set down the menu. "I'm ready." Mr. Gold gave a nod in Ruby's direction; who, Marie realized, was just conveniently out of earshot of their entire conversation. She began to feel vulnerable in Mr. Gold's presence for the umpteenth time that day.

Mr. Gold graciously gestured to Marie, suggesting she order first. "I'll have a BLT with turkey and avocado, if you have any avocado that is." She smiled at Ruby.

"You got it girl," the scantily clad waitress replied. Marie didn't judge Ruby for her confidence. She only noted the rocking abs the young woman had exposed and felt a slight pang of jealousy. With her father sick, she was not as active as she used to be. But Marie knew that comparison was a societal pressure that only limited the power women could hold—if they targeted each other, no one else would have to subjugate them, they would do it to themselves. She glanced at Mr. Gold, who seemed more or less unaffected by Ruby's attire. Despite her best efforts, Marie appreciated this and yet cursed herself for it.

"I'll have the quiche, please, _Ruby_." He handed his menu to her and soon she was off.

"Do you always order the quiche?" Marie asked, remembering that it was the same thing he had ordered previously. Mr. Gold smiled, revealing those deep dimples beside his broad grin and unevenly arranged teeth.

"Not always. Flattered you remembered." His eyebrow was raised slightly as he took a short drink of coffee.

She shrugged and her long bangs fell in front of her face. She moved them quickly, and caught a flash of something unfamiliar in her boss's eyes. She chose to ignore it, and continued their conversation.

"Yeah, I guess. So, any exciting 'clients,'" she gave quotation mark gestures, "to meet with today?"

Mr. Gold let a deep chuckle escape. "No, dearie. Not today."

She noted that he has an air of glee that was irrefutably caused by him believing he had successfully lied to her. Given their two months together, she was beginning to catch on to his mannerisms.

"If you say so." She then sat silently.

Mr. Gold seemed to grow irritated with her lack of desire to maintain any sort of real conversation. He decided it best to reel his anger in before continuing any discussion, and mirrored her silence for a few moments.

He finally asked, "What have you been up to outside of work?" Marie thought that for once during their discussion, he sounded genuinely interested.

She shrugged, and saw a small crease form on his brow in frustration. She considered not responding, but thought that damaging her growing rapport would end badly for her, and likely her father too.

"I was taking classes before this job. Now I can't afford them." She stared down into her coffee. "Not that it matters. I don't have time for them anymore anyway."

"You took classes? I didn't know that." Mr. Gold realized that there was more to Marie than even he was aware, and he felt his desire for _intimate_ knowledge grow. He kindly followed up, "I am sorry that you are unable to continue." His words dripped with sincere empathy.

Suddenly Marie remembered the night he came over for tea. She felt her stomach churn, wary of his newfound compassion. Could she tell him about her life? She guessed if she did not agree to anything as a result of this conversation, she would be fine. She was finding less and less people willing to listen to her. Her father had been sick for so long now, and her hard knocks were old news to the town of Storybrooke.

Everyone knew, and everyone felt sorry for her, at first. Slowly people went back to life as usual and Marie became the daughter of an ill man. Marie had taken classes, in part, to have something instead of dwelling on how she had nothing to do and no one to do nothing with.

She took a gulp, choosing to make this conversation a time to build a better relationship with Mr. Gold. Besides, he was willing to listen when no one else was. And though they say insanity is doing the same thing multiple times continuously expecting different results, she decided to give Gold a second chance.

"It can be hard some days. I was taking classes online to get my degree, hoping that maybe I could get a job offer someplace…"

"Hm. You cannot leave." Mr. Gold said it rather bluntly, and faster than Marie could process. She waited for an explanation, but it didn't take long for her to catch up to what she thought he meant.

"I know…my father. Even if I got a job near the best hospital, I'd be afraid of what the move would do to him."

While Marie had been getting on track with Mr. Gold's train of thought, he had felt a sudden stress inside himself. Marie could not leave. She was not allowed to leave. He could not let that happen. A moment passed before he responded.

"I didn't mean to say your dreams are not worth pursuing. Truly, when our…_arrangement_ is fulfilled, you should continue classes. What, may I ask, were you studying?"

"Literature, with a minor in psychology. I find characters in books fascinatingly complex and yet strangely simple… as though our minds want to create worlds that far surpass our own and yet we end up playing out the most basic plots or philosophies again and again and again. Besides, psychoanalyzing literature is always entertaining." She smiled a bit shyly, realizing she was rambling on about books. She was soon grateful to Ruby for returning from the kitchen with her sandwich and Mr. Gold's broccoli, spinach and cheddar quiche.

Mr. Gold didn't touch his food, but watch Marie take a few bites of her sandwich and fries. She was learning how to cook vary random, simple dishes with what little money they had. Eating something deep fried and dunked in barbeque sauce was an extravagant treat she was sure to enjoy.

"Yes, that sounds fascinating. You must continue your classes, in time of course." He smiled.

Marie nodded, "I hope so. I don't know, though, what I'd do with it exactly. Somehow studying literature feels important and yet it seems there are few jobs available from that field. Teaching. Law. But I'm not sure those are for me." She shrugged in her usual manner, a girl who did not dwell on future hopes and dreams for fear of losing them in a dismal, ordinary existence.

The thin lips on the taunt olive face curled into a wide grin. "Ah, literature is important, Miss Dupont. It explains so much about humanity's _true_ nature. The things people dream of and desire are sometimes more real than anything we can hear or see, touch or taste." And with that, he took a dramatically large bite as if proving his point.

The young woman across from him gawked, and couldn't help but laugh as he looked suddenly ghoulish. She didn't even think what this sudden attempt at a joke meant for their keeping up "formalities" in public. After a bit of laughed, she said, "Mr. Gold, I should think that quiche in your mouth is quite more real than unicorns and dragons, witches and warlocks."

Mr. Gold swallowed and pretended to compose himself, like a superintendent caught skipping about the campus. "Yes, well, clearly you're only reading European literature or you might have referenced chupacabras or shikome."

Marie couldn't help but be impressed. "You know a lot about mythology."

His grin tilted sideways as it was known to do when he was about to reveal something to her. "Yes. In antiques, one must know the value of something…"

"And value comes from its story… I know, I know. You tell me that all the time." Mr. Gold chuckled as she quoted him.

"Yes, I suppose you are right, Miss Dupont." He took a few bites of quiche.

"Anyway, I'm guessing you learned a lot about mythology through antiquing then?"

Mr. Gold shook his head. "I read. I think that is how one learns most things, is it not?"

Marie's right eyebrow cocked in partial amusement. "When do you find time to read?"

"And here I thought you believed I had nothing to do." His caramel-brown eyes held her blue ones in a gaze for a few moments longer than he intended. He truly enjoyed looking at her, and her ideology behind stories was ironically amusing. The fact that she was so intrigued yet knew so little struck him as sad, although no less entertaining, at least for now.

Marie coughed a little on her sandwich at his bluntness. Once she collected herself, she continued, blushing slightly.

"No…I've come to see that you keep quite busy. Although, I still think you probably do nothing but lounge around lazily at your glorious 'estate.' Is that code for a card-board box behind the shop?"

She suddenly felt like a fool at his coy expression. He had revealed that he one, knew about the town gossip concerning him and two, cared to see if she believed what they said about him. Instead of responding sincerely, she had _teased_ him about not being as wealthy as everyone thought. Since no one had ever actually been to his estate aside from perhaps the mayor and very few others, Marie felt the joke was appropriately pointing out that he was a private man who kept to himself—no one really knew him at all. Still, she had played into his jest. She wished she had responded honestly, at least then she could have stopped herself from making, what she instantly realized, could be construed as a dully flirtatious comment.

Mr. Gold sipped coffee, letting Marie's own words sink into her head. When he thought she had reflected enough, "My estate is quite quaint, but I believe it is nice despite its humble presentation. Perhaps one day you and your father can come over. It can be your farewell party."

Marie's mind exploded. She was not a fool… she was the dumbest ass in Storybrooke. She had come to this meeting with every intention of building a better working relationship with Mr. Gold. Instead, she implied unintentionally a desire to know more about him. She did want to know more about him, but more through conversations spread out over long periods of time, not through spending even more time with this man than their already many hours during the week. Of course, given that she probably would work for him for at least a few more years, she figured it couldn't hurt to say yes. Maybe by then, going to his house would seem less strange and more like a friendly farewell party between cordial co-workers. It could be… quaint. She would then leave for school. As if her dreams were ever to turn to nightmares, the very thought of leaving for school caused her father to pop into her head and she knew that she would not be going anywhere for a long time.

Her countenance fell significantly, and Mr. Gold was about to say something when Marie lifted her eyes to meet his. "I'm sorry, Mr. Gold. That sounds nice, truly. I'd love to… it's just, a 'farewell' party wouldn't be very appropriate. As you pointed out earlier, I'm not going anywhere."

Some dusty brown hair had fallen in his face and he jerked his head slightly to get it back in place, properly framing his sharp cheekbones. "Miss Dupont, I merely meant that it would be a celebrative gathering. I assure you, when the time comes things will be better. You will be happier."

Marie seemed to doubt him. "I know that I will be in Storybrooke a long time, and that is ok." She tried to reassure herself that a 'normal' life would not be so bad.

Mr. Gold let a small smile appear on his thin lips. "But that means you will have to give up things you want."

Marie gave a quick nod, gaze falling from his eyes to her coffee. "Yes. It means sacrifice."

For the first time Mr. Gold could remember, he heard the word sacrifice come from someone other than himself. He always warned his _clients_ of the various _sacrifices_ they would need to make to get what they wanted. They were always thinking about their goals with a one-track mind, and often in the short-term scheme of things. Here was a young woman who had taken online college courses to further her education and have a better life _in the future_, a woman who had decided to give that all up to help her sick father_, _a woman who had agreed to work for him in order to pay her father's debt, a woman who had just said that it wasn't such a sacrifice to work for Mr. Gold if it meant her dying father could perhaps linger longer, which only meant further delaying her very much _un_selfish goals.

Mr. Gold felt the weight of their arrangement on his end for the first time. He wanted her to achieve her goals, and now found that he was the sole hindrance to them. Of course, part of him did not mind preventing her because it meant she was in his shop day after day, week after week, month after month. Because of the deal she made, they were having this _touching_ conversation in Ruby's diner. Because of the deal, she was confiding in him things he never would have known before. Because of that deal so many years ago, she was under his power. And at the thought of power, his more sentimental thoughts seemed to vanish as if only a dream forgotten once one awoke from a night's sleep…as if only a fairy tale.


	4. Chapter 4

As Marie and Mr. Gold spent time in the shop in the days that followed their luncheon, Mr. Gold continued to avoid topics about himself. Marie took note that he would not reveal much to her yet, and so decided to be an "open book" for now. She hoped that her honesty would strengthen his trust in her, and that one day he might loosen up, if only a little. The fact that she was becoming less bitter in his presence was not wasted on her, and she felt guilty for enjoying his company every day.

The antique dealer looked up from his record book.

"What college course did you take most recently?" He asked.

Marie stopped her routine dusting to reply, "Ancient Greek Lit."

"Ah, the 'classics.'" He had his usual sideways grin, seemingly proud of himself for the pun, "What was one of your favorites?"

"Oh, probably the Homeric Hymn to Demeter" she said while stretching her arms and back a little. Dusting wasn't too hard, but certain objects made her contort her body in interesting ways and periodically left her a little sore. Mr. Gold never minded.

Today he noticed the way her light blue blouse hung loosely around her neck, accenting her collarbone. It took him a moment for his mind to return to the discussion at hand. He forced himself to remain present for the rest of the conversation.

"Hm, interesting choice, Hades' deception."

"You really do know everything, don't you?" She sat down on a high top wooden stool.

He released a chuckle, "No, merely well read, as I said before."

Marie eyed him suspiciously, "Sure. You know more literature references than I do, and I just finished studying the subject for three and a half years."

Mr. Gold's smile held steady, "Why is _that_ particular story a favorite, may I ask?"

"I guess I like the idea that, although Persephone was tricked and her life was dictated by forces out of her control, she was able to make the best of it." Marie's eyes scanned the shop.

"She finds happiness, even in dark places." He was stoic and solemn.

Marie glanced over at her employer, who suddenly looked distant, as if he were looking far into the distance. She thought it odd, given that the man was normally so fiercely present. The young woman spoke up, "Yeah. She makes it work, and in the end she is content."

The sharpness returned to his caramel orbs as he looked over to the beautiful brunette, "And are you content, Miss Dupont?"

"I'm not sure yet." The answer came to Marie's lips before even thinking about it. Mr. Gold, she thought at least, seemed satisfied with that answer and went back to his work.

As the day came to a close, Mr. Gold offered to walk Marie home since he was headed in that particular direction anyway. Marie did not mind and the pair made the short walk in good time. She realized that he had not been there since the day he came to tell her father about their _arrangement_.

…

Marie sat with her long, wavy brown hair pulled back into a sloppy ponytail, listening to music while writing a paper psychoanalyzing a collection of Grimm Brother's fairy tales through the lens of Stockholm syndrome.

The poetic lyrics flowed into her ears,

_Whisper whisper  
There are secrets bred  
Underneath all the lights  
All my friends don't know who I really am  
I'm afraid that there's no sure tell sign  
If there's a wolf that's been living on the inside, the devil in my – _

When suddenly there was a knock on the door.

Marie paused her music before leaving the dining room table to answer the door. Standing on the other side was a calm and collected charcoal clad Mr. Gold. Although she had feared he might come given the conversation her father had on the phone with him about their house, and possible foreclosure, she was still shocked to see him standing there.

"Hello, Miss Dupont. How are you this evening?"

The bitterness in her gaze and her stony silence caused a gleeful tilted smirk to appear on his face, "I suppose not too well, given the particular circumstances. Of course, I did not expect things to be much better." Despite his reasons for coming, he waited for her to let him in.

She finally spoke, "You've come to _hire_ me then?" Her words dripped with sarcasm and malice.

Mr. Gold's expression became a bit harder due to her disdainful tone, but his eyes twinkled. He was enjoying the current situation immensely.

"I need to speak to your father." He added.

"About what, Mr. Gold?" The old man appeared in the dimly lit hallway, rather ruffled looking like a bird with its feathers unsettled, in his pajamas and dragging a wheeled oxygen tank behind him.

"I am sorry for arriving at this late hour, Mr. Dupont." Although eight in the evening wasn't very late for most people, given Mr. Dupont's ailment, Mr. Gold recognized it was perhaps not ideal.

The older man ignored the intruder's formalities, and continued in his light French accent, "Mr. Gold, why are you in _my_ home?"

The dusty haired pawnbroker glanced at Marie.

She stepped forward, "He is here… because I made a deal with him a few years ago."

The words struck Mr. Dupont with horror. "No….No." He began to cough.

Marie rushed to his side and put the oxygen tube in his nose so that he could breathe deeply. "I'm sorry, papa. I thought you would get well."

Her father inhaled for a few moments before he motioned for Marie to step aside. He slowly walked to where Mr. Gold stood watching the family pair.

"And what must she _do_ for you?"

Mr. Dupont's tone carried the weight of implications that shamed Marie. Mr. Gold looked offended by the subtle innuendo. "She will work for me to pay off your debt and make regular house payments. Two to three years should do."

Her father began coughing again and Marie rushed to his side. "Papa, it will not be so bad." She knew he felt guilty for putting her in this position. She felt guilty for having hidden this from him for so many years. In truth, she had forgotten about it until she had noticed Mr. Gold calling the house more often to check on things. Their house had gotten emptier and emptier as her father sold off whatever they had left. Then it would not be long before _he_ arrived.

Her papa was about to protest, but the coughing fit overtook his ability to speak. Marie walked him down the hallway towards his bedroom.

Mr. Gold called after her, "See you at the shop tomorrow, Miss Dupont."

She glanced at him over her shoulder as he walked out of their home.

…

"Thank you for walking me back. You did not need to." She said as the two made it to the small cobblestone walkway that led to her home. She had always thought it rustic, like a bygone era of peasants and knights and royalty.

"No, I did not need to; it was my pleasure, Miss Dupont." He hit the last syllable of 'pleasure' a bit oddly, but Marie attributed it to his soft Scottish accent. His accent tended to creep out at unsuspecting times, reminding her that there was so much about Mr. Gold she did not know—that no one in Storybrooke seemed to know.

"Good bye, Mr. Gold."

As she turned to go, he spoke softly, "Good bye, _Marie_."

…

Author's Note: The song, "Wolves" is by Sosaveme. Yes, I love the HH to Demeter.


	5. Chapter 5

The town's mayor, Regina, stormed into the shop. "Where is Mr. Gold?"

Marie raised an eyebrow, irritated with the intrusion and the lack of manners coming from those deep red lips. Perhaps Mr. Gold was rubbing off on her after the past few months, but customers were _guests_, and unwelcomed visitors were annoying.

"Hello, Madame Mayor. What can I do for you?" Marie had a smug look on her face, as if the Mayor's demands were nothing more than small talk.

"Unless you are deaf, Marie, I asked where is your _employer_." She over enunciated the last word as if Marie could not understand basic English (as if speaking like that is ever helpful for anyone who doesn't understand a language).

The young woman shrugged. "He hasn't been in today."

…

Regina was storming about Storybrooke when she almost literally ran into Mr. Gold as he left Granny's small diner with a to-go box, a surprise treat for his favorite, and only, employee.

"Pardon me, Madame Mayor." His voice was smooth as silk.

Hearing that title in the mouth of the man whose power in the town nearly rivaled her political influence frustrated Regina.

"You've been making arrangements with my townspeople behind my back." She accused, rather accurately.

Mr. Gold held his cane firmly in front of him, letting his fingers curl around the top as he looked at Regina quietly. He stood elegantly, a curtain of wispy hair covering part of his face as his mouth curled into a gracious smile. "Forgive me. I did not know that _my_ business was also _yours_."

"I hear you have been paying the Dupont's bills in turn for Marie's employment. I'm afraid indentured servitude isn't exactly _legal_ anymore, Mr. Gold." She scoffed.

His brow quirked up ever so slightly. The antique dealer was curious what had gotten into Regina, and why she was pushing him so. It never went well for her, but he would allow this behavior, for now.

"I believe Marie works for me of her own will. If you doubt me, you can ask her yourself." He began to walk by Regina but she quickly took a few steps back, red heals clicking the sidewalk.

"If you say so, Mr. Gold. But I would advise you to not make deals bordering on criminal activity. My town doesn't need bad publicity." Her voice was curt.

"Yes, of course, Madame Mayor." He leaned forward to take a few more cane-assisted steps. Regina reluctantly let him leave, watching menacingly.

…

A young girl with bushy brown hair came running into a small wooden barn where a broad shouldered man was hard at work constructing a desk. The man, wearing a ragged pair of dust covered trousers and tunic with holes in it, set down his hammer.

"Oh Belle, what is wrong?" He asked, his voice melodic.

"Papa… the children laughed at me. They said I was weird." The girl's round eyes were sad, glistening with tears.

The tall man with dark brown hair, matching his daughter's, crouched down in front of her, putting his calloused hands gently on her shoulders. His voice was strong and kind with a light musical quality.

"My girl, do not let their words upset you. You are a creative young lady. You have so many talents. Sometimes that makes kids jealous." He moved a hand under her chin, lifting her face to meet his soft gaze.

"But just keep being my sweet little girl, and people will not be able to be mean for long."

Belle's big green eyes brightened as her father spoke. She looked like a child with newfound determination as she nodded, "Then I'll be so sweet, they have to be nice back!"

Her father let out a hearty chuckle as Belle's countenance glowed. She had her mother's heart, that was for sure. He watched as his bushy-haired angel ran off.

As he went back to the desk he was constructing, there was a light "pop!" behind him. He turned quickly to see a gold skinned figure dressed in mismatched black, gray and burgundy leather. The creature's eyes were murky and voracious.

"Who are you?" The gentle-hearted carpenter demanded.

"Oh, just an observer." The intruder replied.

"I meant your name, _imp."_

"Tsk, tsk." The stranger began to walk circles around the carpenter. "What harsh words, _Luc_. Some call me helpful." As the stern looking man was not responding, the strange creature finally gave an exaggerated bow.

"Others call me Rumpelstiltskin." His voice had a musical ring as he spoke his name.

"What do you want?" the broad shouldered worker held his hammer a bit tighter, as if preparing to attack or defend as needed.

"Ah… the question is: what do _you_ want?" Rumpelstiltskin sidestepped in a tight circle around Luc, spinning and twirling as if he had no care in the world. But whenever his eyes fell on the carpenter, Luc felt a chill in the air.

"Nothing." Luc said stubbornly. He wanted no dealings with this foul creature.

Rumpelstilskin raised his eyebrows. "No-thing? What of that messy child I saw?" He spoke with feigned innocence.

Luc lifted his hammer up in a challenge as he strode forward with determined steps. "I love Belle dearly, and if you speak of her again, I'll nail that slick tongue of yours to the floor." He raised his voice in rage, a father ready to defend his daughter to the death.

His gleeful opponent kept an even voice, although it sounded breathier than before. "But good sir, I only meant that others do not think _fondly _of her." He stood straighter, pointing with his long finger at his own chest. "I can change that!" A wide grin grew on his gold crusted face.

The carpenter let his hammer fall slack at his side as the demon's words sank in. His poor, sweet child deserved better than the cruelty of her peers.

Rumpelstiltskin stepped forward, face empathetic and voice quiet. "She deserves their admiration. Their _love_."

Hearing the words on that foul tongue snapped Luc back to reality.

"She may deserve better," the carpenter looked furious and spoke with finality, "but for now she has my unconditional love."

"And what of her _future_: will she ever have suitors with a reputation of being the odd, wild-haired girl?"

Luc glared at the imp and explained sternly, "She has my creativity, and her mother's gracious heart. Soon, she will have her mother's looks as well. She _will_ be happy." The man said it as if he were trying to believe it himself.

Rumpelstiltskin gave a large grin of messy teeth, grotesque eyes twinkling with glee. "Oh, master carpenter, I am _sure_ she will be beautiful. Happiness is another matter."

Before Luc could respond, the imp was gone.

…

Marie heard the bell ring, and knew it was Mr. Gold coming in for the afternoon. She quickly stood up and closed her copy of _East of Eden_.

"It is alright, Marie. You can read." He spoke without looking at her, but instead was pulling the blinds on the windows closed. Mr. Gold usually let Marie close up now so that he could run other errands in the afternoon when it was "more convenient for clients," as he would say. Marie knew it was easier for him to catch people on their way home than on their way to work in the morning. Mr. Gold tried to "visit" when it was easiest to unhinge his clients, such as after a long day of work or errands when people are on the verge of exhaustion.

"Sorry, Mr. Gold." She put the book in her yellow leather purse before walking over to help close the other blind. "The Mayor was looking for you, she seemed kind of pissed."

As Marie glanced over at her boss, his brow was crinkled and he seemed bothered.

"Sorry, she seemed upset." Marie thought he disproved of her language, but he gave a small shake of his head as if he did not mind it. Suddenly, Marie felt worried for the man.

"Is everything alright, Mr. Gold?" She asked.

Although she knew he could deal with anything, Regina had her own forms of manipulation within the small town. This duo was comprised of the two most feared individuals in Storybrooke, and fortunately for the town, they rarely danced in step with each other.

He took a few steps forward, leaning into his cane. She noticed that he was wearing a new tie, deep crimson with black details that looked like a vine of roses intricately twisting together.

"I will be fine, Miss Dupont. Merely tired; it was a long day. You can go home. I will see you on Monday." His resignation pulled at Marie's heartstrings, although she didn't know the best way to proceed. Reputation be damned. She was a compassionate person, and even the most hated man in Storybrooke deserved a friend.

"Enjoy the weekend, Mr. Gold." She gave a sincere smile, hoping that it helped, even if only a little.

Mr. Gold gave a short nod. "Yes, you as well Marie."

She left, putting on her headphones, wondering what Regina had wanted with Mr. Gold as she hummed along.

"_And you find your destination  
With so many different places to call home,  
Cause when you find yourself a villain,  
In the story you have written,  
It's plain to see  
That sometimes the best intentions  
Are in need of redemption  
Would you agree,  
If so, please show me."_

She couldn't help but feel as though _something_ was catching up to Mr. Gold.


	6. Chapter 6

An eighteen-year-old Marie drove around town in her father's white pick-up truck. It was an old model; they'd had it as long as she could remember. She liked the truck, more because it allowed her to drive out into the forest where she could paint or play or read or write in peace. It gave her a chance to think and to get away.

She was stopped at one of the few four way intersections in Storybrooke when she saw Mr. Gold and Sheriff Graham talking. Graham waved at her, and motioned for her to stay put. He walked to her vehicle as she pulled over; Mr. Gold came over a little slower than the bearded, and not unattractive, sheriff.

"Can I help you, Sheriff?" Her eyes glared darkly at Mr. Gold, who stood off to the side. He was close enough to hear everything, but his gaze was looking off into the distance. Marie hated him and his stupid silver suit. It was like he dressed up just to show off the fact that he had the money to do so.

Graham looked at her apologetically. "I'm sorry, Marie."

At her name, Mr. Gold's gaze shifted to her. His thin eyebrows tilted slightly. He disliked the Sheriff's familiarity with Miss Dupont.

"What is it?" Suddenly, she felt worried for her father. He was getting worse day by day. "What is wrong?"

The sheriff leaned in her window a little. "It's your truck."

"My truck?"

"Well, your father's truck." Graham looked as though the next sentence was painful to utter. "It is being seized."

At that moment, Marie turned her head to glare Mr. Gold, who was doing his best to hide his grin.

"No. We need this truck. There are a few deliveries to be made. How am I supposed to help my dad with his work?"

All three knew that Marie's father had not been working for a couple of years now. The deliveries she spoke of were the random projects he had lying about his shed, things that never sold. She had been setting up a website trying to sell as much as she could.

"I'm sorry, Miss Dupont… but your father is in a lot of debt." Mr. Gold came closer to the truck. Marie had the desire to punch him. Clearly he noticed the fire in her eyes, because he stopped a bit out of reach.

"I'm sorry, Marie. But I need you to exit the vehicle." The Sheriff sounded truly apologetic.

She reluctantly turned the keys and got out, almost hitting Mr. Gold with her door. She slammed it, causing Graham to wince. His beautiful brown eyes and charming accent held no spell over Marie. No, for the first time ever, she hated the sheriff's little amount of power in the town. And for the millionth time, it seemed, she wanted to beat Mr. Gold with his own damn cane.

Graham got into the truck to take it away, although he seemed hesitant to leave the girl near the man who was responsible for her new problems.

"It is very regretful, Miss Dupont."

The fire continued to pulse within her emerald orbs, but she refused to react in a way that might further affect her financial situation. The man before her had too much power in their small town; she was not a fool.

"If you regret it, then give it back." Her voice tried to stay steady, but she could not help that a plea escaped her lips.

"I've let you keep your house; for now. That is the most I can do."

The gentleman gave her a thin smile and walked off, leaving Marie in a cloud of her own rage.

…

Mr. Gold's shop had become almost like a second home for Marie. Three months or so of working there meant she knew every piece of furniture, every stone statue, every wooden sculpture, every delicate trinket, and all the items in between. She had come to find a few favorites around the shop. Things she hoped would never sell. One was a short, stubby clock. It was cute and certainly had character given its crooked minute hand and slightly off center numbers. The other object that had captivated her was a glass rose. It was finely designed-the glass was not completely smooth but gave it texture. The way the flower caught the light made it look like it was just beginning to open for the sun's morning rays. She always held it fondly when wiping its petals.

As she was once again cleaning the beautiful glass rose, Mr. Gold looked up from a contract he was drawing out.

"Charming rose, isn't it?"

She gave a nod, continuing to admire it. "Certainly a piece of art. I am envious of the skill."

Mr. Gold stood up slowly. His cane made its rhythmical thud in tune with his steps as he came to her. She had not turned to look at him, but soon he was so close that he was almost touching her as he looked over her shoulder. She wanted to move, but felt frozen to the spot.

"Yes, envious indeed. Such a lovely, delicate thing." His voice was airy, and she could feel his warm breath on her ear.

The brunette quickly set the rose down. As she did so, Mr. Gold reached for its price tag. In the moment she was pulling away and he was going toward it, their hands brush. Marie gulped and suddenly felt claustrophobic. Mr. Gold's eyes glanced at the girl; she was blushing slightly.

His gold teeth could be seen as he smiled, checking the price.

"Well, I suppose beautiful things often have high prices."

He withdrew his hand, letting it rest in his pocket; he wanted to savor the feeling of her soft skin, letting it become a memory forever imprinted on his mind. And he thought he had been so _good_ at keeping his thoughts on the matters at hand as of late.

"I should go. My father needs his medication. Can I make up my hours tomorrow?"

Mr. Gold walked back to his desk. "No need, just leave early."

She hesitated, wondering what invisible string she would trip over that was so tightly attached to his moment of generosity.

He looked up from his contract, expectantly.

"Yes?" He asked.

"Nothing, Thank you." She smiled shyly.

"Have a good evening." He looked at her with hungry eyes, but for now he would stay his appetite.

"You too." She took a big breath in the fresh air, sighing as she felt her freedom.

Mr. Gold smiled as the bell jingled with the door's closing. He would have her, one day.

…

Belle sat at her canvas, lost in the depths of her imagination, when she heard a crash coming from downstairs. Belle ran to the kitchen, seeing a freshly cooked stew soaking the floor and her father leaning against the cupboard coughing.

"Papa, are you ok?" She worried.

The man, once so strong and sturdy, had begun to look paler with age. His deep brown hair was graying, and his sharp features were becoming pudgy.

Her father nodded, although the coughing seized him such that he could not say anything. Belle quickly got a cup of water. He tried to drink it, but sprayed most of it and the rest drooled out of the side of his mouth.

Belle helped her father up slowly, and led him to his bedroom.

"I'm sorry Belle." Her father said when he could finally speak, voice tired and throat sore from coughing.

"Shhh, papa. It's ok. I will find a doctor." The old man was soon fast asleep and Belle quietly left his side to go find someone, anyone, who could help.


	7. Chapter 7

Reviews Welcomed!

…

Belle sat at her father's bedside. He had been sleeping for over a day, and she was once again worried that he may never wake up. She heard a knock at the door, and left his side for the first time in hours. Standing there was a short bearded man who seemed rather impatient.

"How can I help you?" She asked.

"Your father… um. Sorry about his illness. But, he was working on some things I need for the castle." The short man began hesitantly, but was definitely there on a mission.

Belle raised an eyebrow. "The castle?"

The short man gave a stiff nod.

"Of course. For whom?" She grabbed her father's old leather book to check the records.

"Prince James. He was having a bedside table made for his soon to be wife." Belle raised an eyebrow. The rather intimate item was one of the last things her father completed, and here it was a gift for the Prince and Snow White.

"Yes. I believe it is ready. I can show you to our barn."

While Belle was out helping the dwarfish man, her father stirred upstairs.

A sound awoke him, a light "pop."

Luc struggled to open his eyes. He couldn't remember how long he had been sleeping for, but his head felt foggy, his throat ached, and he wished he could just continue to slumber in peace. He suddenly had that feeling that he was not alone in his room.

"Oh, master carpenter…you do not look…_well_." Leaning on a post at the foot of the bed was none other than Rumpelstiltskin.

Luc would have moaned if it did not hurt so much to speak. Instead, he settled for glaring darkly at the leather-clad troublemaker.

"I could fix that up for you." With a tilted grin, Rumplestiltskin admired his long, pointed nails, side glancing at the bed-ridden craftsman.

"I don't make deals with imps." The carpenter's voice cracked, slightly above a whisper.

Rumpelstiltskin's eyes shimmered, and he bore his teeth as if about to growl rather than smile.

"Ah, but all _I_ require is a rose that cannot age. A small token to trade…for your life."

Luc's gaze was distant as he mulled over the condemned creature's words. He finally spoke up, "I don't—", he coughed, "know where to find—," he coughed again, "one."

Rumpelstiltskin walked over to the bedside and leaned in so that his face was in front of Luc's. He shouted, "Pity!" and laughed with his mouth open wide enough to see inside. It irked Luc, but not as much as the unwelcomed visitor's quick transition to a malicious grin.

"I guess I must find my _deal_ elsewhere! Toodles!" With another "pop" the imp vanished. He had departed too gleefully for his sudden absence to be of any comfort to the dying man.

…

Over the following months, her father became sicker, and Belle resolved to ride far and wide searching for healers. She was leaving yet another healer's home unsuccessfully. The "doctor" was useless. She and her white steed were far away from home. Indeed, she was now a fair distance outside of the kingdom. She was not too afraid, however, given a small potion in her pocket that would burn anyone who came near and her father's old sword strapped to her back. Although he was a humble carpenter, he had served a few years in the king's army, and he had always thought self-defense an important skill for Belle to have. The tattered cloak she wore intentionally covered her figure and face to make her sex ambiguous, protecting her from wild animals—of the male variety.

She began to leave the town where the healer dwelt when an old woman, blind in both eyes, called out to her.

"Oh child, if it is a cure you seek, there is none but magic."

Belle pulled on her horse's reigns. "You know magic? Can you heal my father?" She was unable to mask the desperation in her voice.

The old woman cackled. "Oh no! But… I know one who can." She motioned for Belle to come closer, and whispered in a raspy voice, "Rumpelstiltskin."

The blind hag explained where to find the magical deal-maker and that Belle must bribe the guards with a single gold coin for them to let her pass. Belle galloped her horse with bold determination and fierce speed—she must find a cure.

The guards, satisfied with their payment, let her go down the dark hallway with a glow at the end that signified _his_ prison.

"What's this?" She heard the gleeful voice before she could see where it was coming from. The sing-song tone continued, "The carpenter's _strange_ daughter? Why should a _poor_ child come visit me?"

She stood beneath her cloak, watching as the prisoner gaily grabbed the uneven bars of his magical dungeon cell.

Belle stepped slowly into the glow of the torches, removing her hood to reveal long, shining brown hair and sparkling emerald eyes.

Rumpelstiltskin's eyes widened as he let out a gasp in pretend shock. "Ah! Then it is true… the oddly duckling has become the bea—you—tiful swan!" He held his hands together against his right cheek, looking at her with a predatory gaze and a goofy smile.

Belle blushed slightly, causing his grin to grow. Apparently she was not used to being complimented so bluntly.

She walked closer, and stared at his crusted face, his golden grey hued skin and those muddy-yellow eyes.

"And you, sir, are everything I have heard." She retorted.

He smiled wider than she thought possible. "And more!" He twisted his hand to point his finger up. She stared at him with curiosity and fear.

He then leaned his face through the bars.

"So, dearie, what is it you… _desire_?"

His looked her up and down, becoming angry with her shabby cloak that concealed her feminine figure.

"My father is sick…" She sounded hopeless.

"And you want _me_ to heal him?" The glee on his face made her irritated and slightly afraid, but then he suddenly pulled back into the shadows, turning away from her.

"Go ask a doctor." His voice sounded flat, having lost its melody.

She had told herself that she wouldn't cry; at that moment, she started to fail.

"They say there is nothing more they can do," she uttered quietly, tears streaking down her face.

With a leap, Rumpelstiltskin was back to hanging on the gate of his cell. "And what will you give me for your father's life?" His enthusiasm should have deterred her, but she had come too far to back down now.

Belle tried to stand straighter, attempting to summon whatever courage she had left, most of which had been spent simply visiting the dungeon in the deep.

"What did _you_ have in mind?" She glared at him, something in her eyes was both passionately awakened at the chance to save her father and personally dead—as if she knew what price he might name.

The glee returned as Rumpelstiltskin reached through the bars to touch Belle's face. Her impulse was to step back, but instead she stood, staring at him. Pure emerald eyes matching murky yellow ones. Which beholder would be broken?

"A life for a life." He smirked.

"Done." Her voice and eyes cold.

His grip on her face, and life, tightened.


	8. Chapter 8

I only own Marie!

…

Mr. Gold suddenly appeared at the window, giving Marie a start. He nodded his head towards the door, causing a curtain of silky hair to fall in front of his face. Marie opened it and he entered, carrying a heavy looking box. She quickly grabbed the box so that Mr. Gold could rest a while. He hobbled to his desk, breathing harder than usual. Marie followed, setting the heavy mystery box atop his desk.

He spoke in his smooth, airy Scottish voice, "Go ahead, open it." His thin lips slightly painted in an almost gentle smile.

Marie reached across his desk, finding the top side-drawer where they kept the letter opener. As she leaned forward distracted by the task at hand, Mr. Gold's shallow breaths caught in his throat. He admired her long, wavy hair dangling oh so temptingly in front of him. His dark eyes trailed down her neck and exquisite collarbone. The gold and blue striped blouse she wore hung loosely, and he thanked the universe for gravity as he caught sight of soft flesh, untouched by the sun.

As she withdrew, he let his gaze return to her face, which was currently contorted in concentration. Marie always took his commands or requests so seriously, and he wondered if she was so accommodating in _other_ areas of her life.

Her strong but slender hands cut open the box, revealing packing material. Mr. Gold grew envious of the item inside which would soon find her hands all over it in exploration.

She quickly plummeted her hand into the foamy peanuts, pulling out a small statue. It depicted a somber looking man seated on a throne that reminded her of the Lincoln memorial, only this particular leader wore Grecian garb, in her opinion reflecting an official in 5th or 4th century Athens. Beside him, leaning ever so slightly on his throne was a woman with hair braided in the royal fashion of the ancient BCE city. Marie quirked an eyebrow, impressed with the find.

"Hades and Persephone, 5th century?"

Mr. Gold was proud that the object of his admiration was quick-witted and extremely intelligent, or he might feel her unsuitable to his appetites. "Indeed. A small replica of a lost statue from around 450 BCE." He smiled at her instead of applauding her guess.

"That is amazing!" Her eyes scanned the weighty object, turning it over in her hands. Mr. Gold's head was about to explode from frustration as she relished the marble item. He watched as she walked over to the wall attempting to find a space for the newest prize in their expanding collection. She was trying to put it on the top shelf, but being a few inches short of six feet, she was unsuccessful. She released a funny, almost puppy-like groan signifying the difficulty, and subtly hinting at her need for assistance. She never did like asking for help.

He grinned. It would be his _pleasure_ to assist her today. He walked over, leaning into his cane. Once beside her, she glanced at him as he took the object. Something in his deep-set eyes made a chill crawl down her back and she felt confused at what emotions were being portrayed in those dark orbs of his. As he leaned in to place the miniature Athenian statue on the highest shelf, she could smell him. She registered that he smelt _clean_. He had no particular scent on him, except perhaps a light cologne. But the combination of his newly dry-cleaned charcoal suit, whatever lather he used, and what she guessed was a slightly minty shaving cream, left him with an elegantly clean scent in a pure hygiene sort of way, as if any other fragrance would tarnish his need for perfection. He was a man who cared very much about appearances; that fact had always been clear to her. He obviously thought it important to take care of his person as well as his wallet. In that way, she recalled he was not your usual crook and swindler. He was a deceiver—a deal maker—a devil. A particularly good-smelling devil, but that thought merely disturbed her and she quickly created distance by walking back to his desk to dispose of the now unnecessary box.

Meanwhile, Mr. Gold was enraptured by his closeness, and as she walked away, he decided it better to leave the office than to remain in this torturous euphoria. The sign near some of the glass objects, "Look, don't touch," felt cruel in its twisted irony.

He heard her voice behind him as he gathered his cane. "That really is an awesome piece." She walked a little closer to get a better look at it. _It_, not him.

"I'm glad you like it, Marie. If I can't find it a home, perhaps you could."

She brightened, and the thought that he now had a new bargaining chip made him a bit happier too. He could "make her day" by simply giving her some odd trinket, whether the rose or the statue. With the unraveling plots in his mind, he realized that although he often used fear as his main form of manipulation, with all that he wanted from her, he thought it best she at least _like_ him. He was becoming pleasantly surprised that she wanted him to like her, or at least respect her, and to be on his "good" side. The thought made her endearingly naïve—she believed he had one.

"I have some errands to attend to today." He mentioned, buttoning his suit jacket.

"Will you need my help?" She asked politely, grateful for the new piece in her midst.

That he wanted her help with a different task did not escape his mind.

"Oh, not today, dearie." He walked to the door, pausing before he left. He had a habit of doing that. "Have the rest of the afternoon off."

"Thank you, Mr. Gold."

As he left, she recalled his almost licentious gaze. She felt a tightening in her chest as she wondered if he expected her to make up the time _another_ way.

…

Belle lifted the beautifully, hand-sewn golden cloak out from its hiding place under a floorboard in her bedroom. She threw it on, tying it loosely around her neck. When she looked at herself in the full-bodied mirror, she saw nothing.

…

As Rumpelstiltskin's cold hand tightened on her jaw, Belle finally had sense enough to step far enough away as to be out of reach. His gleeful eyes turned ravenously vicious.

"You are mine now!" He almost growled. He gestured for her to step close to the bars.

"What do you want from me?" Her eyes were cold and he couldn't help but feel jilted…and excited.

He wrapped his dirty hands around the uneven cell-bars, resting his head against one of them. "Dearie, can you think of nothing you have that could interest me?" His devilish grin firmly in place.

She gulped, and he laughed. "All magic comes with a price! I did _warn_ you." He pointed at her, keeping the rest of his fingers around the bar.

The resolve she had lost was mustered a new. "I have no way to get into that cell… and no way to make routine visits go unnoticed."

"Ah, that is true—unfortunately there is no way in or out of this wretched place…" Belle looked relieved, "But there _is_ a way to visit—unseen, and whenever I should have need of you." He clapped his hands together tauntingly and the thick feeling returned to Belle's throat.

"How?" She would hold up her end of the bargain, and she would do it well, giving him no reason to let her father die. That is unless she could find a way out altogether with her old man's health intact.

"I thought you'd never ask!" He giggled, and pointed down the dark hallway she had traversed to see him.

"When you return home, my sweet, you shall find a golden cloak underneath the floor board by your beddy-by." That fact that he had been in her room did not escape her.

"And how will that help exactly?" She glared.

"Ahhhhh, well. That's where the _enchanted_ part comes in. You see, they _won't_ see, nobody will, but me!" His sing-song rhyme took a while to sink in. He had left a cloak in her room that would make her invisible to everyone but him. How did he know she would come to him?

"Is that all then?" She gulped.

"Not yet." His voice was suddenly stern. As she was close enough to grab, he quickly took her hand in his. He held it tightly, and if she had struggled at all, he would have bruised her soft flesh. Feeling his tight grip, she went against her instincts and let her hand lay slack in his; it was cold and clammy. With his other hand, he pulled a tiny gold ring from his pocket. A small sapphire was set within it's twisted frame. It reminded her of a rose bush twisting around itself, the sapphire the bud on top.

"What—" her voice was shaky, "What is that?"

He slowly put the ring on her middle finger, grinning at her. "This is a most precious object and the only thing on my person when that wench deceived me… it will glow whenever I call."

She let out a sigh of relief and his eyes darted to her.

"And if you do _not_ come… your father dies." He let out a howling laugh and she pulled her hand away. His lustful eyes registered her frightened and disgusted expression and it made him feel inexplicably triumphant.

He heard the jingle of keys from the guards, signifying that people were approaching.

"Aw…my pet, I'm afraid you have to go. But don't worry…you'll be back soon enough." The grin made him look like the devilish creature she knew he was… and this deceptive man before her with the gold and grey skin _owned_ her. To what purposes he had for her, the darkest parts of her mind slowly began to ponder.


	9. Chapter 9

Belle had made many trips to his dungeon over the past six or seven months. She tried to forget each occurrence, but bits and pieces would continuously flash in her mind's eye.

A chilling hand around her neck, the pair standing nose to nose as he spoke of the terrible things he planned. Those murky eyes always gazing at her figure—taking in her fit form. The smirks. The grins. The cackling laughter or deep-throated chuckle. A long-nailed finger gently stroking her cheek and then falling to trace her collar bone.

Not all times spent with him was a reminder of the _true_ nature of their contract. No, sometimes he would simply want news of the goings on in the kingdom. A creature who once had his hands in almost everything was now ignorant to more than he would care to admit. Belle was good for information. Good for sustenance, as she often brought more accommodating meals than the guards served. She was good to stare at and fantasize about as well—but the latter he would not do while she was around. He would take in her _real_ form and enjoy his own version later.

Belle walked through the twisting, dark cave for what felt like the hundredth time.

"Why so cheerful today?" She asked, approaching his dwarf-carved box in the cave's depths. Rumpelstiltskin looked more ecstatic than usual as he stood at the bars, waiting.

The fact that she was curious told him everything he needed to know. She was slowly coming to terms with their _arrangement_. In time, perhaps, she could fully give herself over to it, if he didn't force her to yield first. There was, as usual, the small matter of the bars between them. Damn.

"Oh, my precious child, I've had the most _wonderful_ visit." Belle passed him a sack full of bread and dried meats. The prisoner began to devour without a second thought. He ate greedily, in part because of his grumbling stomach and in part to make Belle want to hear more.

When he was close to finishing, she gave in. "Who came?"

The imp swallowed. "Ah, why so…_curious_?" His wide grin contorted his entire face into a mask of delight.

Belle shrugged. She was too tired to play his games today. "Why hint at something and not tell me?"

He enjoyed her sass and thought of the many ways he could play with her for _hours_. "Very well, dearie. A certain _evil_ queen may have come to me."

Belle looked more frightened than she had in a few visits, causing him to lose himself and cackle, head thrown back.

"Why would you help her?" Belle acted as though it was some treacherous crime, below even him.

"Don't be foolish, _Belle_. I've nothing to lose except this wonderful estate!" He left the bars to spin about his prison, arms raised in abandon. The way he moved demonstrated more grace than one thought possible from this monster. Of course, it clashed with his hardened leather attire and sickly golden skin.

"What will the curse do?" Even Belle, a carpenter's daughter, had heard the rumors. The entire kingdom seemed aware of the conflict between the Evil Queen and Snow White. The fact that the Royals were once again dictating the lives of thousands of people seemed something of which all others, save Belle, were ignorant. The people _adored_ their new Queen Snow. Belle thought the affairs of the affluent despicable or pointless.

"Ah-ah-ah! What good is a secret evil curse if I reveal the consequences to everyone?" He shook his finger at her like a nanny scolding a troublesome toddler.

Belle bit her lip. She wanted to keep asking, but felt it unwise to continue. Still, she could not help herself. She had to know. "Please, nothing will happen to my father, will it?"

Rumpelstiltskin looked disappointed. Curse that dying man. He and he alone wanted to be the man occupying her thoughts.

"Oh, your poor _papa_ will likely be no worse off than he was before." He waved his hand nonchalantly.

Shaking her head she responded, "That breaks our deal." She spoke with confidence and authority.

"What a fierce one you can be." He tweaked his head slightly as he climbed on his cage. "How I wish I could truly _relish_ our contract."

His words sank in even more, "_a life for a life_." She was his entirely. She realized that their deal could not be made void until he enjoyed his prize.

Belle pushed the dark thoughts away, focusing on the task at hand. He had invited her here to tell her something, that much she knew.

"Please, what will the curse bring?" Fear etched on her soft skin.

In a desire to see her horror, Rumpelstiltskin divulged, "The entire realm will be part of a world without happy endings!" He delivered it like a master musician—hitting every word with the right inflection to send chills down anyone's spine. Yet, to his utter surprise, she scoffed.

"Hah! You're the fool, then. Who had ever heard of a happy ending in this land?" She let the bitter notions that had been stewing inside her break forth, "My life belongs to the foulest creature that ever walked this earth…and you think I would dread the onslaught?"

The swan he had so ruthlessly caught was biting back—and biting hard. His eyes were dark with malice but his face had a newfound gaiety. "Oh, poor, poor Belle. In this new world… you will be more tormented than ever."

"Impossible."

…

Marie left the grocery store with just the necessities. Her budget was ever shrinking to pay off more debt than she thought possible. She was conducting mental math when she caught sight of Mr. Gold coming towards her. It was too late to change paths. He seemed to be exploding with joy and approaching quickly

"What has gotten into you?" Her bluntness did not make Mr. Gold falter in the slightest.

"Miss Dupont. Good day. There is merely a new visitor in town, possibly good for business." He smiled.

The phrase "good for business" never implied Mr. Gold would be _good_ in any way. He had also used the word "visitor," implying the person was here to stay, at least for a while.

"Oh? Who is it?" She asked.

Running into Marie had put Mr. Gold in a playful mood, made evident by the dimples set deep beside his grin. He let his slender hands wrap around the top of his cane, much like how a cat's tail twitches when it stalks its prey.

"Why should it matter to you?" He raised an eyebrow in anticipation. She looked slightly taken aback by his question. _Good_.

"Oh, I guess it doesn't. You just seemed excited is all," giving him the all too familiar Marie shrug.

"Why should my happiness be noteworthy to you?" He pursued this line of questioning, hoping to force an entertaining response.

Marie felt her chest tighten for the second time in his presence. Her reply could not hide that she was flustered, "I spend more time with you than anyone else in this dull town. Why wouldn't it matter to me? Besides, I thought we were—"

"Friends?" His tone was gentle, but his raised brow showed that he was amused. He chuckled quietly. "My dear, _you _are merely an _employee_. Friends see each other outside of the work place."

Marie felt discouraged and he watched the light in her eyes fizzle out. He feigned ignorance of her attempts to have a good rapport with him, and he was very much enjoying the results. Indeed, she was starting to care for him. _Perfect._

"We do." She added shyly.

He batted his hand gracefully. "Merely business luncheons." He began to walk away. "I have a meeting, Miss Dupont."

She watched him go, feeling suddenly at a loss. It wasn't that he meant a lot to her, but he was beginning to mean something. He listened when she talked about her father's condition. They enjoyed conversations about literature, psychology, international politics, anything she thought of he was a more than capable participant. Actually, whatever she thought of, he always seemed to know just a little bit more. She was coming to respect him, not his business practices, but how he carried himself. He was confident despite everything that circled about him in Storybrooke. And, she hated to admit it, he had a mystery about him that was intriguing. No one really knew this man, but she was beginning to. It made her feel special to be the one who was starting to understand him. At least, she had thought she was starting to.

As she watched him walk away, she decided it best to avoid any more unnecessary conversations for now. No matter, she would spend the bulk of the weekend caring for her father, doing further budgeting, and daydreaming about classes or careers that would take her away from her current circumstances.

…

The lyric, "_I'm not sick but I'm not well" _was stuck in Marie's head on her short walk to work. She debated about whether it would be worth changing her alarm from the radio setting to the traditional irritating "beep." Whatever song she awoke to seemed to affect her mood for the first part of the day.

Monday morning Mr. Gold seemed to be acting as though nothing had happened.

"Good morning, Miss Dupont." He said, while unlocking the door for her.

Her heart had been pounding in her ears the entire walk to the store. She was afraid to go to work again, almost like she had been the first week of employment at the pawnshop.

"Good morning, Mr. Gold."

The pair entered and Marie felt a bit more at ease when Mr. Gold retreated to his back office for the first time in weeks. She checked all of her favorite antiques and trinkets before getting to her usual dusting. She was at it for about an hour when Mr. Gold reappeared. He was leaning on his cane, clad in a black suit and crimson tie. Marie had the horrible revelation that they were matching as she was adorned in her snug crimson sweater and black scarf. The silly detail, purely coincidental, just continued to reinforce the notion that although she may not be sick…maybe she wasn't doing very well after all.

"Marie, would you be able to run an errand for me this morning?" He asked.

She was put even more on edge by the fact that he had asked and not demanded it. Yet his face seemed genuinely concerned by her lack of response.

"Well?"

She nodded.

"Good. I would like for you to introduce yourself to Emma Swan, Storybrooke's newest guest."

Marie knew better—that was not all of it.

"And?"

He smiled, revealing his metal-capped teeth. "So suspicious, dearie. I wonder what has gotten into you." His voice was quiet as he walked closer to her. She stared at him, unsure how to react to her recycled line from their awkward weekend interaction and the sudden lack of distance between them.

"I…I just want to know why." The stutter was not lost on him as he broached the line of respectful "colleague" conversational proximity. Where he stood implied so much more than their employer-employee relationship.

"I just thought, with how _friendly_ you are, you would kindly welcome the stranger. She is, after all, like family." He smirked.

Marie's mind raced trying to understand the numerous meanings beneath the surface of his words. She was, however, mostly distracted by the clean smell and the idea of this woman being potentially related to Mr. Gold.

"She is Henry's mother, of course." He took a few steps around her back, standing on her other side now. Some of his hair fell in front of his face and he tossed it aside with a quick flick of his head. "So, will you?"

"To what end?" She did not meet his eyes but gazed ahead at the statue of Hades and Persephone. The image became all too real and she gulped silently.

"That does not concern you. You owe me more than a few favors." He grinned.

Whatever ground she believed to have gained was lost in an instant. He was a deal maker and she his victim. Friendship was not an option here.

"Really? Taking my truck, almost all of our furniture and our house décor was not enough for you?" She was angry and bitter.

"It is called seizure, Miss Dupont. Read any book on banking procedure and you shall find that I operated entirely within my rights as a loan broker." He leaned in closer, so that his airy breath could be felt on her ear. The chest tightening feeling was becoming far too familiar to Marie. The tingle down her neck was new. "Entirely within the law." He repeated.

She hesitated before biting out, "_For once_." It was meant to offend, but instead it made him laugh at her as he stepped away. She let out a deep breath of relief at her once again respected space-bubble. Mr. Gold sincerely enjoyed that she had been holding her breath at their closeness.

He was entertained. "Now, now, Marie." He then spoke with a finality that did not often escape his lips. He lowered his voice, causing her to listen more intently than she otherwise would have. "Introduce yourself to Miss Swan and tell me how it went over lunch. My _treat_."

He held her gaze longer than she would have liked until she finally acquiesced with a quick nod. She set down her dusting things in the corner and left the shop.

…

"You must be Emma." The wavy haired brunette extended her hand to the pensive blond who was just trying to cross the street in peace.

"Yes… and you are?" Emma looked at her critically.

"Marie." She shook her hand firmly but gently. She had no intention of intimidating the newcomer. "Sorry, Mr. Gold told me about you."

Emma raised an eyebrow. She had only seen the man once thus far and that was leaving the small inn where she was staying. The fact that he owned the town was fast becoming evident by the local folks' responses: glares, hushed whispers, hastened pace upon his approach. She wondered who this young woman was to Mr. Gold. Considering he was quite creepy, there were a lot of possibilities; the girl, however, seemed normal and _friendly_ enough.

"Oh." Emma said, with the weight of her thoughts reflected upon her face.

"I'm his assistant at the pawnshop. We don't get many visitors in this town."

Emma figured it must be hard to find work in this place, and even a kind girl like this could end up with that creep.

"I see, well, nice to meet you Marie. And no, it doesn't seem this town has much going on."

"I hope you find it a welcoming place" Marie tried to smile, and Emma sensed a deeper story behind the wavy locks and gentle green eyes. "It was nice meeting you too, Emma. Feel free to drop by the shop any time." Given Emma's knack for catching liars, Emma felt that this woman was being sincere. Her employer, Mr. Gold, would likely be another story entirely.

…

Author's Note: Thanks for reading! Reviews welcome!


	10. Chapter 10

Author love: Thanks to everyone for reading! I only own Marie.

…

As she walked towards Granny's Diner, Marie glanced up at the clock tower in the center of town.

12:30

She gasped, grabbing her phone from her pocket.

12:30!

She smiled broadly and rushed to the diner. She opened the door, causing Ruby to stop reading her magazine. "Red, the clock tower is working!" Marie was purely ecstatic.

Ruby simply raised an eyebrow, and spoke through vibrantly painted red lips. "Well, Ree-Ree, that's great news." She grabbed a glass and the water pitcher and met Marie at a booth.

Marie was smiling broadly. Ruby would understand her excitement, once she explained. However, the sudden childhood nickname had over taken her. Marie hadn't been this easy going around Ruby in a while, but the tower hadn't moved in their entire youth.

"It's been a while since we talked, huh?" Marie watched as the gorgeous waitress sat across from her.

"Guesso. How have you been?" Despite the time, Ruby was quick to enjoy her old friend's company. Most girls, women, and men around town just gave Ruby dirty looks. Marie had always been a caring and compassionate person. Ruby realized how much she missed her old friend.

"Good" Marie replied.

"Really?" Ruby expected a different answer from the one working so closely with Mr. Gold, the thieving bastard.

Somehow, Marie seemed to know what her childhood companion was getting at. Ruby had been around whenever Marie met with Mr. Gold at Granny's. She was, in fact, the only one who was ever in the diner for their "business luncheons," something Marie was starting to notice.

"I mean, working for Gold isn't exactly the highlight of my young adult life…"

Ruby laughed. "Seriously. He's creepy, right?"

Marie hesitated. "He can be. He just… he doesn't play by any rules. He can be polite, but odd. It doesn't affect me too much, though. I just clean." She shrugged.

"Well, maybe you can toss out my grandmother's contract when you have a chance. I'm sure Mr. Gold would be furious!" She laughed to herself.

"Indeed he would." A chillingly smooth voice reached both women's ears. The pawnbroker stood beside the table, causing Ruby to jump a little in the booth. Mr. Gold was pleased with that response. Marie, however, froze after the initial start, her heart racing—evidenced by the rapid pulse he could see on her soft, slender neck. The real reason for his thin smile.

"A coffee, please, _Ruby_." The waitress stood and left in a slight panic. She desperately hoped he hadn't heard everything, for Marie's sake.

Mr. Gold took the newly vacated spot across from Marie. "I do hope you are not planning to take advantage of my _generosity_, Miss Dupont."

"No sir." She gulped, shaking her head. "We were just talking, idly. I… I didn't think…"

"Before you spoke or that I was listening?" His eyes darkened as they scanned hers.

"Both." She admitted.

Her honest answer intrigued him and he slowly sipped the small cup of coffee placed before him. After a few moments allowing her to think about her actions, he spoke.

"Well then, enough unpleasant talk, yes? How was your meeting with Miss Swan?" He would not let go of this so easily, but for now, he needed other answers.

"Fine, she seems nice enough." Marie was unsure where this would lead, and had the feeling that it was beyond her control. She was slowly feeling less and less in control around this elegantly dressed man.

"Regina isn't pleased." She added, drinking her water.

"Oh? And why is that, _dearie?"_

"She thinks Emma is out to take Henry away."

Ruby already had their lunch orders prepared, trying to erase the previous event from Mr. Gold's mind. She brought out two slices of quiche.

Mr. Gold's eyebrow lifted as he perked up in his seat, dimples appearing.

"What?" Marie stared at him, registering his giddy reaction. "I wanted to try it."

"You could have… asked for a bite." His silky Scottish voice was almost sweet to her ears.

She blushed, causing Mr. Gold to release a low chuckle. So, the thought _had_ crossed her mind. The pair ate their lunch mostly in silence. The black-suited man would look at her between bites of his feta zucchini quiche or long drinks of black coffee. Marie hardly met his gaze, pretending to be absorbed in her lunch. She ate quickly. Once she finished, Mr. Gold set down his fork and folded his hands on the table in front of him.

Marie finally looked up at him and felt the familiar chill down her spine. His eyes were dark and set on hers. His face looked as though it was once again concealing a grin.

"I believe, Miss Dupont, we should discuss a few things in a more _private_ setting."

Marie nodded, quickly realizing that she may indeed lose her job, her house, and her dying father would soon be out on the street, all because she spoke to an old friend about Mr. Gold.

Mr. Gold slid out from the booth, grabbed his cane in his right hand, and gestured with his left for Marie to lead the way. She hesitantly walked out of the diner, at which point he stepped in front of her towards a dirt path that led to the woods.

Suddenly all of those horror films Marie had watched, despite her father's advice, flashed before her eyes. A young, sexy woman walks into the woods, or into a dark basement, or an abandoned factory being mauled to death by some dark creature or psychopathic killer. Thoughts of little-red-riding-hood did not escape her frightened mind. The big-bad-wolf leading the way was very much a reality.

Marie gulped, but before they were even out of sight of the street, Mr. Gold turned quickly on his heel. She was relieved that he was not intent on going any further, but not too calm given his current expression.

"Miss Dupont, I am afraid I cannot tolerate such disloyalty around town. People might soon…take advantage of you…" He stepped close enough to her side that her cherry blossom scent filled his nose. He inhaled deeply. "…If they thought you could help them."

"I would never think of doing anything like that." Her tone quickly portrayed her anxiety and her desperation to convince him.

"I know, _dearie_." Mr. Gold stepped closer, his chest almost against her shoulder. "I know. But others… are not so certain. They might try something."

She turned her head to look up at him. His face expressed empathy, but his lips were in a fierce battle against the smirk trying to imprint itself there. She could practically hear her heart thumping in her chest. She needed to prove her loyalty before she could discuss what the working clock might mean for her future at his shop.

"I would never let that happen." She whispered.

The smirk finally won out, and Mr. Gold looked off into the woods but did not move away. "Well, I suppose I should trust your word." His eyes found hers again, and oh did he love those emerald orbs. "But if anything were to happen to my _contracts_, I think we would need to re-evaluate this particular arrangement."

His warm breath met her ear, and that odd tingle went down her neck.

"I understand, sir."

"Please, _Marie_, call me Mr. Gold." Those succulent lips were so close. What would she do if he captured them in a kiss?

"Right, sorry Mr. Gold." She gulped.

Hearing his name escape her lovely mouth almost made his breath catch. He responded in a low voice, "Back to the shop, then. I will close up tonight after I pay Madame Mayor a visit."

Marie fought her curiosity successfully for the first time; she nodded and left him near the woods.

…

"Ah, _Belle_ my sweet, I believe we have a guest. Put your hood on, dearie, and stand in the shadows."

The golden cloak soon covered her long, flowing mahogany hair. Rumpelstiltskin raised a finger to his lips, indicating that Belle keep quiet. She nodded, waiting, trusting that she would be safe from any prying eyes.

"It's just us, dearie. You can shooow yourself!" Belle watched as a dark mouse grew into the Evil Queen she had only ever heard about in frightened murmurs around the kingdom.

Belle listened closely to the words exchanged between the two dueling evil forces in their realm. A Queen, desiring to be "happy" at the expense of everything she held dear, and her new "keeper" who was thriving on the onslaught of chaos. Her breath caught when Rumpelstiltskin grabbed the ebony haired woman.

She heard his request for comfort in the next life, and she rolled his eyes—of course he would have such requirements. Like all powerful people, he only cared for himself.

What felt like an eternity passed before Belle heard him say, "Then stop wasting everyone's time and just _do it_."

The Evil Queen left in a huff, and the prisoner cackled at the moral dilemma he had imposed upon her.

Rumpelstiltskin walked about his small, cave-like cell for a while, mumbling to himself. She was becoming familiar with how he plotted, and the intervals when he saw into the future. He finally paused, sensing that something had just changed. Belle felt it too.

"You thrive on even the evil queen's pain. And here I thought you were on her side."

He laughed maniacally. "Silly Belle, I am on no one's _side._ Although, I'd love to be near yours." He motioned for her to come to the bars and he grabbed her chin, forcing her to stare into his murky metallic eyes.

"You will be mine in that world as well, _my sweet_. And there… I will have no cage to stop me from claiming all that I desire." He grinned.

And as the dungeon shook and purple smoke invaded the place, Rumpelstiltskin put his other arm around her neck and pulled her into a fierce, forceful kiss. As he let out a squeal of darkest joy, he found her mouth parting to allow him further plunder. He devoured her lips as the smoke took them and their lives and memories were twisted and transformed.

And they found themselves in _our world._

…

Author's note: For those wondering where the title came from… this is out of the Grimm's tale about the "Singing, Springing Lark":

But as he approached the tree, a _lion_ jumped up from beneath it, shook himself, and roared until the leaves on the trees trembled. "I will eat up anyone who tries to steal my singing, springing lark!" he cried.

The man said, "I did not know that the bird belongs to you. I will make amends for my wrong and ransom myself with a large sum of money. Just spare my life."

The lion said, "Nothing can save you unless you will promise to give me that which first meets you upon your arrival at home. If you will do that, I will grant you your life, and you shall have the bird for your daughter as well."

His favorite daughter first greets the man when he comes home and she goes to live with the lion.


	11. Chapter 11

Mr. Gold smiled to himself. The time in the woods with Marie had set him on course. She was once again afraid that her current circumstances could soon change for the worse. She would give way, in time.

He smiled recollecting Regina's expression after their last meeting by her newly mangled tree. Her eyes widened and her lips curved downward, illustrating her flustered state when he uttered, "Please." Chucking the apple as he left was just to further prove his point; he was indeed in control of Storybrooke—in control of her.

And oh, how Mr. Gold had longed to have this power. He knew that the cane, his feigned feebleness, and his calm demeanor led others to reveal too much to him in their overly emotional responses. Indeed, his silky tone and sharp glances were enough to push anyone's buttons while he remained entirely at ease. Why he had never thought of using elegance and manners before to achieve his every whim was beyond him.

It worked wonders in _this_ world.

As he slowly turned the lock, closing his shop for the night, he glanced down the sidewalk. He thought he had heard something. Unsure, he continued locking it and walked off as if heading towards his estate.

The blond woman was soon inside his shop. Somehow she had discovered the safe behind the painting. He almost laughed: how on _earth_ would she open it?

"Ashley, what _are _you doing?" The smooth voice caused the young woman to jump.

Before he reacted to the thief, Mr. Gold found himself sprawled on the ground with burned eyes, a headache, and a pregnant woman running off with his property.

…

When Marie came into work, Mr. Gold was already there straightening up the shop. A few antique pieces were broken on the floor, including a mostly shattered glass rose.

"What happened?" Marie set down her copy of _A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court_. Her contemplation of a modern/contemporary figure being sent into a different time period would have to wait. She was saddened by the destruction of her prized trinket.

The dusty haired man picked up the rose's only surviving piece—its red bud; the stem and leaves were unsalvageable glass shards on the floor.

"You can keep this." He handed it to her, before straightening up, and walking to his desk. "Well, it seems we've had a break in."

She met his gaze—his dark, deep-set eyes made her chest tighten.

"Sir, I didn't—"

"Marie, please. I know you had nothing to do with it… It was merely a distraught woman." His response was riddled with deep reflection.

She let out a sigh of relief and grabbed the broom and dustbin. Mr. Gold took something from the top drawer.

"Who was it?" She asked.

"I do not think that information important, for her sake. I do not plan on pressing charges."

Marie thought it sounded _kind_. What had she been after? Mr. Gold made his way towards the door.

"Oh. Okay. Where are you going?" She called after him.

"I need to recover what was taken. Keep the shop open while I'm away, dearie."

She nodded, watching him go, curious as to what had been stolen. So far, she could not tell anything had been taken. She kept sweeping up the broken pieces on the floor.

…

Rumpelstiltskin stood in the rose covered garden, taking a swig from his metal flask, waiting for Cinderella to come his way.

She was coming with her silly enchanted quill and pre-drawn contract. That she thought it was enough to stop his unfolding plans made him cackle as she approached. He would simply claim more from her than she would ever have agreed to freely. He would take her Thomas, and no one would ever be able to suspect him from the _safety_ of his prison.

What's more, he knew that he would eventually aide the Evil Queen in releasing the curse "to end all curses," he would learn the name of Snow White's _precious_ child, and he would have a third deal to make the temporary stay in his cell _much_ more bearable.

Indeed, as the blond approached, the gold-skinned man couldn't help but smirk, murky eyes glaring into the future. Everything was going _perfectly_.

…

A few nights after the break in, Marie went to check on her father.

"Good night, papa."

She walked to his bedside; horror met her there. He was not breathing.

"Papa!" She quickly grabbed the bedside phone and dialed 9-1-1.

She remembered everything in a haze. The ambulance came. They shocked his chest, inserted a ventilation tube, and wheeled him out of the house. There was a siren despite the close proximity of the small town's medical facility. She sat there, beside the navy blue dressed men and women who were trying to revive her father; she could only hold his hand and wish and watch.

He went into surgery, and she waited.

Late in the morning, they returned her beloved papa to his room in the hospital, but he was unconscious. The doctors still would not tell her anything.

Mid afternoon, _finally_, a doctor came to speak to her.

"Can we go outside, Miss Dupont?"

She nodded, following the white-coated woman.

"Your father had a heart attack. We had to do emergency heart surgery. We wanted to wait until we had a clear prognosis before discussing things with you."

Marie's world was being torn apart, and the slender, dark haired woman before her seemed intent on watching the carnage.

"What _things?"_ She was tired. They hadn't told her anything. And this was about her father, her papa. The damned woman needed to get on with it.

"Well… he will need to stay here for a while, indefinitely. We're afraid of moving him. And there is the matter of his medication…and insurance."

There it was. The same fucking thing. Each time her life got worse, the wicked green stuff had its hands all over it. She needed money and she had none. She was screwed.

"Keep him in the hospital for now. I will…work something out." Despite the exhaustion, her resolve was growing. She would find away. She had made it work so far. She could do this. She had to.

"Miss, unless you have the right papers within a few days, we cannot keep him here."

Marie stared with more hatred than she thought possible at the woman who had just recently _saved_ her father. "Then he would die?" Her tone full of disbelief.

"I'm so sorry, Miss Dupont. We will talk to our financial department about the possibility of a loan. We will do whatever we can." The doctor gave a small, less than reassuring smile.

The fact that the blasted place had a financial department almost made her laugh bitterly. Instead, she nodded, "Thank you. Good day."

The doctor took the hint and left.

Marie felt tears coming to her eyes. The weight of the situation was eating her from the inside out. She was completely alone.

…

"Oh, let's just say, you'll owe me a favor." Mr. Gold's hair hung in his face as he stared down Storybrooke's newest guest, _Emma_.

"Deal." The determination in the blond's eyes made him grin.

"Grand." He watched as the woman walked away to deliver the good news to Ashley. All of these twists and turns were becoming all too fun.

He heard a _very_ familiar voice, "Thank you. Good day." Mr. Gold turned to look and saw a distraught Marie standing outside of a hospital room. He had wondered why she was not at work, but considering he had other _matters_ to attend to, had just let it go.

It was indeed his _lucky_ day.

Leaning into his cane, he walked over to her. At first, she did not see him. Soon, however, tear filled eyes registered the coming figure.

"What's wrong, my dear?" He looked empathetic. Understanding. Comforting.

Marie did not hesitate. Soon, she was hugging him, crying into his shoulder. Mr. Gold slowly brought his free arm around her back, rubbing gently.

"Shhh." He said quietly in her ear. He let her cry for some time before speaking.

"Come now, Miss Dupont, what has happened?" He asked gently.

Marie took a step back, and looked at him as if she just realized what she had done. She felt slightly horrified at the fact that she had cried on his nice black suit. The man was, after all, always so well kept. "I'm sorry, Mr. Gold." She took in a few deep breaths, attempting to collect herself.

"No need, dearie. Now tell me, is it your father?"

She nodded again. Mr. Gold wondered how _fortunate_ he would be.

"He had a heart attack." Her countenance fell.

_Fantastic_!

"Oh, poor child." He looked down at her, eyes dark and full of pity. "Take a few days off. You should be with him. I hope he is alright."

Marie hugged Mr. Gold again, temporarily forgetting all the wrongs he had ever done to her and her father. For now, he was being generous and she would accept his kindness.

"Thank you, Mr. Gold."

He let a soft chuckle escape; his dimples take their places beside the smirk on his thin lips.

"Whatever I can do, _Marie."_

Everything was going _perfectly_.


	12. Chapter 12

She gripped her papa's hand tightly. Marie spent a few days sitting beside him. Her mind ran through a number of possibilities, but they always came back to the same conclusion—she had to ask Mr. Gold for help.

Given that it was almost 9:00 am, she thought it best to go home, shower, and go see what could be done about her current misfortunes. Leaving her father's side was hard, but the doctors had promised, for what little it was worth, that he was stable.

Once she had cleaned the hospital smell off of her, she left home and walked briskly to the shop. Mr. Gold had said to take as long as she needed, but right now she needed to talk to _him_.

…

Belle sat on the dirt floor in front of Rumpelstiltskin's cell.

"Tell me, my pet, what troubles you so?" He leaned sideways against the bars, looking at his long nails nonchalantly.

She didn't say anything for a while and the man who owned her become more frustrated.

"Come now, _Belle,_ You are not being faithful to your contract."

She shot him a dark gaze, and let out a bitter sigh. "If you must know, a man has been attempting to court me."

Rumpelstiltskin pushed his body against the bars, towering over her. "That is not part of our agreement, _dearie_." He was practically seething. She almost laughed, if not for fear of the consequences. Still, her own anger got the best of her.

"Jealous, Rumpels?" She looked at him, tauntingly. His returned expression told her that he would make her regret that one-day.

Then he grinned, "Not in the least. For you are, indeed, _beautiful." _The way he uttered the word made her feel suddenly dirty and ashamed. His murky caramel eyes covered her body, mentally consuming her every curve, every parcel of exposed flesh. She desperately wished she could cover herself with the gold cloak, but it was no use. He could see through it just as she felt he could see through her.

…

She was almost a block away from Granny's diner when she heard her friend's excited voice, "Ree-Ree!"

Marie turned, seeing an almost skipping Red come to her. "Hi Ruby."

Ruby could tell that Marie was upset, but hoped she could make it better. "I have something for you." The woman held out a cube wrapped in red paper from behind her tied-up white blouse.

"Oh, thanks." Marie took the gift.

Ruby smiled kindly. Marie was thankful that Ruby cared enough about her current circumstances to get her something.

"Sooo, any big birthday plans?" Red asked.

Marie blushed, "Wow, Ruby… I totally forgot… with everything else going on." She tried her best to smile. The fact that her old childhood friend had remembered helped a good bit. "Really, thank you." Marie added.

Ruby shrugged. "It's nothin'. I'll see you around, okay?" Ruby was never very good at comforting, but she was good at caring.

Marie nodded. "Thanks again." She wanted to talk to Ruby about her dad, about Mr. Gold, about her hopeless situation. But Ruby had customers to wait on and Marie still needed to find her employer. The two young women exchanged a quick, tight hug and went their separate ways.

Soon Marie was in the pawnshop, unwrapping her present from Ruby. Mr. Gold walked out of his back office when he heard the small bell ring, signifying someone's presence.

"Good morning, Marie. What do you have there?" He leaned on his cane as he walked towards her.

Marie glanced up at Mr. Gold. "Oh, it's a gift."

"Ah. I have something for your father as well." Mr. Gold gave a kind smile.

"Oh…no, it's for me. But that was nice of you… " At his quirked eyebrow, she added, "It's my birthday."

The charcoal-suited man gave a dimpled grin, "Well well, in that case, I have something for you." He rummaged through the bottom desk drawer. He pulled out a small navy-blue felted box.

Marie shook her head. "You didn't have to do that." Part of her wondered why he had a present if he did not know it was her birthday.

"No, but with all you do for others, I thought you could have something for yourself." She blushed, taking the box. As he handed it to her, his slender fingers grazed hers. Her cheeks grew hotter and he reminded himself to breathe.

She opened it and instantly admired the beautiful, delicate gold necklace within. It had a small gold lark with a tiny sapphire in its breast. She smiled, looking at him.

"It is lovely." She said.s

"Put it on." His replied, determined.

She turned to face a mirror on the wall. She attempted to attach the necklace around her neck, but the old fashioned clasp was unusually finicky.

"Let me assist you." His silky voice was soon at her ear. She handed him the necklace and pulled her long brown hair to the side, revealing her neck to him. Mr. Gold slowly pulled the chain around, making sure the bird was centered on her perfect chest. As he pulled his hands to the back of her neck, they gently touched the soft flesh on her collarbone. She could feel his breathe on her skin, causing her chest to tighten and a chill to surge through her. She almost forgot to breathe herself.

"I had it engraved with your initials." He said, slowly, trying to get the clasp to work. "I never knew… what does the "B" stand for?"

She gulped silently as the small hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. "Belle."

As he finally clasped the necklace, he planted a gentle kiss on the exposed flesh of her shoulder.

Marie spun quickly and smacked him, hard. All of the pent up tension exhibited itself in her quick response.

She was as stunned as he was by her reaction. Before she knew what to say or do, he had dropped his cane and pushed her up against the wall. He pinned her with his body weight, using his good leg for leverage. One arm was at his side in a fist, the other leaning on the wall to stabilize himself.

His eyes were dark and full of desire. Marie's pulse quickened.

"Now, now." He started almost playful. He brought his free hand to her face, putting her hair behind her ears. He spoke in a light, airy accent. "My dear Belle, your future is in my hands. I could pay for your father's medical bills."

He cupped her cheek. "I could let you spend all the time you wanted at his bedside instead of in this place." He motioned to the shop.

She stared at him, her breathing shallow.

He let his long fingered hands fall to her collarbone. "But I will have you, one way or another, _Belle_."

His thin lips were pulled into a smirk. "And you are beautiful." His lips were close enough to take a kiss, but he waited.

When he did not move or speak, Marie gulped, "Please."

Mr. Gold moved to let her go. As his weight left her, she grabbed his forearm. His eyebrow rose and his deep-set eyes scanned hers, his dusty hair hung in front of his face disheveled.

"Please" she said again, pulling on his arm, indicating her return to his former position.

He grinned at her for a moment, but did not make her ask again.

His lips took hers in a deep kiss. He was surprised to find that she did not fight, but rather allowed him full access to her warm mouth. Marie was surprised to enjoy the human contact. It had been years since she kissed a boy, and even then it had been a dare to spend seven minutes in "heaven" with the wiry-haired teenage Marie. She was as unsure what to do next now with Mr. Gold as she had been that gangly junior in his parent's closet.

Mr. Gold, however, seemed to know exactly what he wanted. He was no boy, and this was no dare. He had longed for this since he was behind those bars, unable to appreciate her beauty in full. He brought her into himself, fumbling towards the desk. When she felt the object behind her, she hopped onto it clumsily.

…

Her hands were still latched onto his coat when they were done, both panting. He stepped back from her, watching as she lay down on the desk, chest heaving. He fixed his pants and straightened his shirt, tie, and coat—within moments he looked elegant as usual, as if nothing had happened, save the sweat on his brow. He picked up his cane then returned to her side. He ran a hand through her long brown hair as he sat down at the desk on which the woman he just ravished was laying. His smile was wide and his dimples resurfaced.

"What now?" She looked over at him. Her pupils still wide from their liaison, but otherwise she seemed genuinely curious.

He released a low chuckle. "Come to my home tomorrow."

She raised an eyebrow, unsure what he was getting at.

"You can work there, if you like. It provides a good alibi, does it not? Besides, there is so much more to be done _there._" He flipped his head so the dusty hair settled in its proper place. Belle looked at his sharp features—nose, cheekbones, eyes. His lips, however thin, had brought such delight she had never known nor had she expected. Despite herself, her values, and her resolve, she had enjoyed the events that had transpired. Mr. Gold would care for her father, but more than that, he listened to her. She knew he probably plotted the whole damn thing, of course he could not _know_ her father would be stick, but he could have gotten on her "good" side in order to make his move. She did not care. Manipulations aside, no one else save Red even really spoke to her anymore. She always felt so alone and the closeness that had transpired, even if only physical, seemed to lessen her isolation.

He stroked her stomach slowly, and her heart refused to relent from its fervent pace. She felt vulnerable in her partial nudity and was suddenly embarrassed.

As if he sensed her growing discomfort, he brought his hand up to her cheek.

"You are _beautiful, _Marie." His smile was thin and crooked. "Breathtakingly beautiful."

And before she could respond he took another plundering kiss. She forgot her self-reflection and psychoanalysis and enjoyed the renewed contact. He pulled away, standing straight, and she could not help but feel a little disappointed.

"Sorry, my dear. I have other matters to attend to today, even if I would rather stay here." The playful tone switched to that of near indifference. "You can straighten up and go see your father."

At the thought of her papa, she felt a slew of mixed emotions: worried about his condition, glad to go to his side, ashamed that she had bedded (or desked) the monster, and yet thankful that everything would get better now that Mr. Gold could pay the bills. Most of all, she was confused how much any of this meant to Mr. Gold. He had a look in his eye like he had conquered something, which she highly doubted was due to some jock-like tapped-that pride. It was more than simply the result of sex, it was as if a fantasy had finally been achieved—and had met his expectation.

Her eyes found his, and he was surprised to see a twinkle there.

"Yes?" He asked calmly, not yet leaving her side.

She slowly sat up, swinging her legs around so that they were next to his. "You'll go to the hospital then? And take care of everything?"

Her tone was unsure, and he thought her naïve.

"Of course." He returned a hand to her collarbone, stroking gently. "My agreements are always _honored_."

He left, leaning into his cane. She watched him go unable to process all that had transpired, not sure she wanted to. She did not want to be confronted with her own brokenness or insecurity at the moment. She wanted to enjoy that she had taken care of things, that she did not always have to feel so alone. This cold man would warm up to her one way or another.

The only clear thought that was in her muddled head: _what about tomorrow?_

…

Author's note: RnR always welcome! Hope you enjoyed it!


	13. Chapter 13

Marie spent the afternoon with her father at the hospital. The doctor she had spoken to a few days before entered the room smiling.

"Miss Dupont, it seems a generous donation has been made anonymously for your father. Everything will be taken care of."

She walked to Marie's side in order to give her a hug. The brunette stood grudgingly but obliged the doctor.

"I've never seen this happen before, it's a miracle!" The woman was positively bubbling with joy. Marie wanted to smack her.

_Miracle_.

As the woman left her to care for her other poor patients, Marie contemplated the recent transaction.

Was it simply a transaction to him? To _her_?

And that foolish doctor… she had no idea what sacrifice it took to get such a miracle. A _deal_ was more like it. Fortunately, Mr. Gold seemed concerned with keeping their situation under the towns people's radar. It would be her secret, her burden alone. Since she increased her loan and he added a new _favor_ to their deal, she had wondered what would become of this exchange. She wanted to make the best of the situation, remembering that they did enjoy one another's company when he wasn't being grumpy or stoically silent. He was a good listener.

Maybe, just maybe this wouldn't be the hell she imagined.

…

That night Marie fell asleep to the soft lyrics,

"_Because of you  
I learned to play on the safe side  
so I don't get hurt.  
Because of you  
I find it hard to trust  
Not only me but everyone around me  
Because of you,  
I am afraid._

As sleep took her, she found herself dreaming of strange lands.

She was floating down a dark hallway, and something in her told her to be afraid. She saw a dungeon-like cell at the end, with vertical spikes that served as bars to cage in whatever prisoner was trapped there. Her dream self treated it as a familiar place, a place she had wandered to many times before. She squinted to see what sat on the uncomfortable looking cot in the darkness of the prison. Her eyes adjusted to the darkness and she could make out a figure.

The creature slowly stepped into the firelight. He came to the bars. She saw gold crusted looking skin wrapped in black, scaled leather. His hair was a wavy, matted mess. She could not see his face. She wanted to see his face. She felt she _needed_ to see his face. But as she came closer, she simply felt a hand shoot through the bars, wrapping tightly around her neck. She tried to scream, to run. Nothing happened. A swirl of purple smoke surrounded her as the creature squeezed tighter.

Marie awoke with a start. She was panting, but otherwise safe in her bed. She checked the clock, four in the morning. She tried to go back to bed but found it difficult. Her mind was once again trying to make sense of everything going on in her life. Perhaps, she thought, she could talk to Ruby about it.

She knew better than to give details, but somehow, someway, she needed to not feel so _alone_ with this secret. If Mr. Gold helped her feel not so alone with her father's situation, someone needed to make her feel not so alone with the newest development in their relationship.

…

Marie walked to the shop. She unlocked it and knew where to look for directions to Mr. Gold's estate.

Her eyes found the desk. She was indeed his. He had claimed her—a deal, daughter for father, a life for a life. The twisted irony did not escape her in the least. Yet, Mr. Gold was the man who listened to her. Perhaps he was the only one around because he manipulated matters to _make_ it that way. While she wanted to reconnect with Ruby, that would likely take time. _Time_ was something she simply did not have. She had to work to pay off her father's debt. She needed to care for her papa's hospital bills. She needed to sleep, to eat, theoretically she needed to shower.

She retrieved the piece of stationary with hand-written directions on it. _His_ handwriting. She smiled. It was Mr. Gold's through and through. Long, slender with abrupt curves and sharp edges. After months of working around him, she had never seen his handwriting before. The thought suddenly chilled her—she knew so _little_ about him.

Marie left the main street of Storybrooke unnoticed. People here had routines, and she feared anything out of the ordinary would cause town gossip to spread like wild fire. However, everyone seemed more concerned with their own matters at hand, and she snuck off down the long street that winded through the woods.

It was a long walk by the time she reached a large, black gate. She was about to press the buzzer when it opened.

_He_ was waiting for her.

She walked up the sandstone brick driveway to the mansion, his "estate." She had always been so intrigued by where a man such as Gold might live. She noticed the black Tesla parked in front of the large double oak doors. He certainly cared about appearances.

This time she knocked before he opened.

"Good morning, Marie."

She was expecting a pointed grin or toothy smirk. Instead, he looked solemn.

"Is everything alright with your father?" He asked gently.

She nodded, entering the large welcome area, her suspicions growing. "Yes. The doctors informed me of an anonymous donor. A _miracle_ they say."

He nodded. "Perfect. I do not think anyone needs to know about our deal. Do you?"

She shook her head.

"Good."

The fact that he did not address her comment about a miracle made her slightly afraid. Was she really just here to clean? Was the new deal a one-time only occurrence? She was pretty sure it had not been _that_ good for him. Then again, despite her moral compass or educated ideals, even she had found it more enjoyable than she expected.

"Please, come in." He closed the door silently behind her. He walked her towards the kitchen. It was spotless. He showed her to the living room. Spotless. Behind every door was an immaculately clean room. She felt as though she was slowly understanding the terms of their deal.

He stopped at the stairs.

"Per our agreement, Miss Dupont." The sudden formality caught her off guard. However, she assumed he was merely trying to be proper, more than he had been the day before. "You will clean here a few times a week. If at any time you wish to leave your new _employment_, you are free to go."

She was the one with the raised eyebrow now. She studied him intently, and he laughed lightly.

"Of course, the anonymous funds will stop flowing." He added bluntly.

At his comment, she frowned. She had no choice. She must do this.

"I do not wish for this to be unpleasant for you, Marie." On the contrary, the more _pleased_ she was the better things would be for him.

Marie walked closer to him so that their noses were almost touching. Mr. Gold's grin found its place on his thin lips. She would play his game and she would play it well.

"What did you have in mind?" Her voice was low and enticing. She was trying to play the game, and she was very competitive. Losing was not an option.

And his grip on her soul tightened.


	14. Chapter 14

Marie sat quietly on a bench in her father's workshop as she read a book for school. It was a humble sized workspace, but with the doors to the shed open wide, it felt just the right size for the carpenter and his fourteen-year-old daughter.

Papa was working away on a large bookshelf for some lucky customer. The piece was one of the most beautiful things Marie had ever seen him make. He had certainly spent enough time on it; it seemed every free minute he was carving away at its sides and shelves. The design was becoming so intricate it looked like vines, _living_ vines, were clinging to its surface and climbing up its sides.

Her father brushed his hands off on his pants as he stood up and looked over at her. "Do you like it?"

Marie looked up from her book. "Oh, papa, it is the best work you've done yet!" She had a wide smile.

"I am glad you like it. I made it for you." He grinned.

Marie was clinging to her papa before he finished his sentence. She squeezed tightly, pretending to suffocate him. He gave a deep-chested laugh.

Making his daughter happy was all he had ever wished for. She meant the world to him. Since her mother's passing when Marie was a small child, it had just been the two of them.

His daughter released him. Though Marie was growing into a beautiful young woman, all he could see was his lovely little girl smiling up at him with childlike joy.

"It is so beautiful!" She exclaimed, running her hands over the selves.

"I thought with all those books of yours, you'd need a place to keep them."

She laughed light heartedly. "I thought that's what those boxes in my room were for."

He smiled at her sarcasm; she was a witty girl indeed. "Oh, well, I guess I can sell this ol' thing then."

She glared at him darkly, playfully. "You wouldn't _dare!" _She ran over and punched him, not _too_ hard, in the gut. He pretended to be injured and gripped his stomach.

"Alright, alright. Keep it. It's yours." He pleaded.

She hugged him again. "Thank you papa!"

"You're very welcome, my angel."

Her father grabbed a damp rag to wipe out all the dust from the crevices. It needed to be clean before he could add the mahogany finish. Marie returned to her reading, _The Great Gatsby, _for school. She was lost in Nick's description of Gatsby:

"_He had one of those rare smiles with a quality of eternal reassurance in it, that you may come across four or five times in life. It faced, or seemed to face, the whole external world for an instant and then concentrated on you with an irresistible prejudice in your favor. It understood you just as far as you wanted to be understood, believed in you as you would like to believe in yourself."_

A knock came to their ears. Marie looked up from her book again, this time she saw a tall, slender man with dusty brown hair and a cane in his right hand.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Dupont." His voice was smooth and pleasantly accented. She thought it sounded Scottish. He wore elegant attire, mostly dark colors with highlights of silver and red. He looked almost noble.

"Good day, Mr. Gold. What can I do for you?"

The man leaned into his cane as he entered and Marie began to wonder what had really happened to his right leg. As he came closer, Marie felt somewhat captivated by him. Though she feared being rude, she couldn't help but stare. So far, he hadn't seemed to notice.

Marie was instantly annoyed with her classmates as she blamed them for instilling her with her current sense of awe at Mr. Gold. Her peers often passed around rumors about the strange man. Some claimed that he was a vampire, a notion Marie's logical mind quickly deduced as ludicrous. Others, particularly the older kids, claimed he was a serial killer dwelling in Storybrooke to alleviate any suspicions. Marie, unlike the other students, was up on all the news in the surrounding areas and was unfamiliar with any random or reoccurring murders close enough to the town. It was an illogical notion. While the _children_ all made up such silly tales, Marie would laugh at Ruby's hypothesis, "that creep needs to get laid already. I'm sure THAT would change him, make him smile!" Red had always been a bit crude. While Marie compensated for losing her mother by hiding within her intellect and dreaming of better times, Ruby chose to become the strongest bad ass Marie had ever known in Storybrooke. Ruby could wear anything, say anything, do anything. Marie envied her freedom. Ruby wasn't afraid of anything or anyone, save Gold of course. Then again, Marie didn't know a single person in town who didn't have some fear or suspicion or (probably founded) dislike for the refined gentleman currently standing in her father's shop.

She snapped back to reality to listen to their conversation.

"My, my. This is a _lovely_ piece, Mr. Dupont. Surely you've outdone yourself." Mr. Gold let his long fingers roam about the bookshelf's décor.

He added, "Exquisite."

Mr. Dupont nodded. "Thank you, Mr. Gold."

"I could use a book shelf like this in my study." He turned to face the carpenter. "How much?"

Her father spoke politely. "I'm sorry sir, it is not for sale. I made it for my daughter."

Mr. Gold's eyes found Marie. She flinched a little, as if caught watching something she was not supposed to. "Hello, my name is Mr. Gold."

"Marie." She said quietly.

Mr. Dupont coughed a little. "Marie, why don't you go get dinner started. I'll be up in a minute."

For one reason or another, her father did not want her near Mr. Gold. Marie nodded. "Nice to meet you, sir."

"The _pleasure_ is all mine." Mr. Gold gave a short bow, gesturing with his hand as if the two were about to dance. Marie giggled and left the shed, the man's intriguing smile stuck in her head.

"Sweet child." Mr. Gold said, turning to look at the carpenter.

"She is. So, Mr. Gold, what are you here for?"

"Ah yes. I wanted you to fix the clock in the center of town." There was no expression on Mr. Gold's face, but his deep eyes twinkled.

"It has been broken for years. I don't know that I can fix it… I don't have all the right tools." He brought a hand to his slightly scruffy chin, thinking how he could make the clock tower work again. Marie's papa was in desperate need of work. The reason he had so much time on his hands to build the bookshelf was due to the ongoing lack of customers. They were a few weeks out of the slow season, yet business had not picked up again. He could not compete with the prices of warehouse and home furnishing stores springing up in the cities and larger towns surrounding Storybrooke. People simply did not want homemade pieces anymore; at least not at the prices he sold them to make a living.

"I will purchase anything you need. I can pay you now as well. The tools will be yours as an additional bonus." A kind smile found its way onto Mr. Gold's narrow face.

Mr. Dupont nodded. "That'll work, Mr. Gold. I can get started first thing tomorrow."

The burly carpenter put out a hand to shake on it. Mr. Gold's smile deepened, revealing dimples. "Thank you, Mr. Dupont." The un-calloused hand gave a firmer shake than Mr. Dupont was prepared for. As he looked Mr. Gold in the eye, something inside told him he had made a terrible mistake.

…

Marie left the hospital in low spirits. The doctors told her that the medication, which should have helped her papa get ten times better, were merely helping to stabilize him. Her father's various attendants were unable to figure out all that was wrong with him. A few had said it was a combination of things they had never seen before. Marie did not care that his case was "unusual," to quote his surgeon, she just wanted him well and nothing seemed to be helping.

…

Marie lay on her side in the black satin sheets as she stared out the window in Mr. Gold's luxurious master bedroom. It was the third time she had "cleaned" for the man that week. Although she was tired from her newly acquired extracurricular activities, she never slept there, nor did he while in her presence.

At that moment, he was breathing slowly near her ear. He had finally regained composure since their last stint in bed. He began to kiss her neck, to bite it.

She could not tell if he expected more or if he was merely enjoying his bliss.

The hand that had been resting gently against her stomach slowly traced down to her navel.

"I have a few things in mind to do today." He sounded like he could be talking about the weather, although his voice was a bit breathier than how he spoke to her at the shop.

"Like what?" She asked quietly, unsure. He was never predictable in bed, or anywhere else for that matter.

"Can you think of _nothing _I might like to do?" He asked in his soft Scottish accent.

…

He sat up in bed for a while. She could feel his eyes scanning form before he got up and headed to the closet. She could tell he was dressed by the sound of his cane on the floor as he neared the bed. He was soon clad in a dark charcoal suite with light pinstripes and a silver tie. He sat down in front of her this time so that he could look into her emerald eyes.

He brought a hand to her shoulder in a comforting gesture. "My dear, how is your father?"

While she would normally appreciate the question, she hated him for his timing. Why did he always have to remind her that this was a business transaction to him? Or… did he actually care?

"Same as usual." She felt the all to common hopelessness returning.

"Pity." He let his thumb gently circle her shoulder. He looked at her as though he expected more.

"If you want something, just ask." Her tone was rough, and Mr. Gold did not seem to appreciate it.

He squeezed her shoulder, digging his thumb into her soft flesh. She felt the jabbing pain in her muscle. "Now, now _Belle_. I wanted to hear how your father is doing. Is that too much to ask? I _am_ paying his bills, am I not?"

She finally met his gaze.

"I'm sorry."

He released her shoulder, and kissed the spot where there would undoubtedly be a small bruise.

Marie felt her mind whirling. How could she have ever thought this man was kind? She couldn't fight the continuous thought, _because he listens. He listens well. Intently. _Today isolation seemed safer, better, easier to bare.

"Mr. Gold." She tried to steady her voice. His eyebrow perked up; he did not expect her to continue after he did _that_.

"Yes?"

"I…I'm alone with all this. My mother died when I was so young. Now…now my father is…is…" She tried so hard to speak, but her words had abandoned her. Instead, she found herself crying.

Mr. Gold stroked her cheek and shushed her gently, much like he had done at the hospital. Though part of her mind was trying to remind her that he had done so only to win her over, to convince her to give in, the other part willingly accepted his comfort.

"My dear, you are not alone." His accented voice was like a purr in her ear as he bent down to kiss her.

She welcomed him, kissing back, tears running down her face. He used his right arm to brace himself as he leaned in for more of her. After the passionate kiss, he pulled away slowly, and she made a slight whine in protest.

He grinned. "What I _want_ to do today and what I _need_ to do are two very different matters entirely, my sweet." He looked down at her. She was pouting for _him_. Why? What could he offer her? He had already taken so much, had already proven to be a selfish bastard, had already treated this gorgeous woman like a prize to be won in a cruel transaction.

"Please don't go." She put a hand on his right leg. He went to brush her hand away, but decided against it.

"I must." He stood up slowly, pushing some hair around her ear. He loved being able to touch her face without her flinching. "I will meet you at the shop tomorrow." For now, Mr. Gold wanted to leave his estate as quickly as possible. Had he known her flesh would so capture his own mind, he may never have made the deal in the first place.

…

It had taken her a few days to think how to describe the relationship between herself and Mr. Gold.

She then found her answer.

He _owned_ her.

But like anything on a chain, both the master and the creature are in close proximity, connected to one another. What would stop said creature from turning on the master, gaining the upper hand?


	15. Chapter 15

Mr. Gold was out and about, as usual. Marie was given free reign of his home while he was away. A man, so full of secrets, was so hospitable with his "quaint" mansion. It was anything but. His openness led her to believe that whatever he was hiding was not written in pen or kept in a secret safe, aside from a few less-than-legal contracts. Part of her wondered where _her_ contract was. Was he so meticulous he even wrote their particular "arrangement" down?

She sat in his study, practically a miniature library with quite a cultured collection of books. He had first editions of many of the English classics, not to mention loads of books written in French, Spanish and German. He also had sections dedicated to particular interests: North African mythology, South American history, South East Asian politics. Indeed, she could see how well read he was. He had not exaggerated in the slightest.

She had gotten part of the way through his copy of _The Pillowman_ when she heard the front door unlock.

His cane thudded to the study's door before he pushed it open.

"Hello, Marie." He smiled at her, dimples clearly displayed.

"Mr. Gold." It had started to bother her that she had nothing else to call him.

"Ah, you've been enjoying my books again, I see."

She nodded, lifting the cover up for him to read it.

"_Pillowman, _Interesting choice. Have you read it before?"

"Yes, for a modern playwright course. I enjoyed it."

He stepped closer to her. Her chest tightened, more from anticipation than fear.

"Really? Such a dark tale…" He brought a hand to the back of her neck so that she had to look him straight in the eye. "What do you _enjoy_ about it?" He smelt her cherry blossom scent.

She paused to think about it a moment. The fact that his dark, deep-set eyes were staring at her did not stop her from focusing. When literature was the topic of discussion, he always found her easily enraptured by it. He was fond of her appreciation for intellectual discussion.

"It talks about pain and suffering… but not in a way that demeans it or abysmally highlights it. McDonagh seems more concerned with weighing people's motives and outcomes. Cause and effect. Consequences." Her shrug came in time. "It interests me to think about consequences."

"The price you've paid perhaps?" He let go of her neck, brushing her shoulder a moment before standing straight again.

"Not just that." She always did respond honestly when discussing analysis; she recognized her circumstances greatly influenced her approach to literature, they always had. When her mother died, she had read many books about death, loss, grief. Should Mr. Gold ever want to know something about her, he simply needed to find the right book to unlock her tough exterior. She did not believe in the "objective" interpretation, and was well aware that literature highlighted the personal experience with words that the reader often cannot find to express themselves.

"He also uses interesting story-telling devices to analyze consequences. Including an obscure reference to—"

"The pied-piper. It _is_ my book, dear." Mr. Gold smiled. The opportunity to finish her sentence was one he could not pass up.

She returned his smile. "Yes, I guess it is. Well, thank you for allowing me to read it."

He nodded. She had almost forgotten their closeness until he turned to leave the room. She instinctively followed. She disliked feeling like a pet trailing behind her master all throughout his house. Better to be a good companion, though, than lose everything she held dear.

He leaned into his cane as he climbed the stairs. Watching him, she couldn't help but pity him. Soon she was at his side in case he had need of assistance. Mr. Gold didn't seem to notice.

When they reached the top, he looked over at her with a contemplative gaze.

Again he found himself stunned by her sacrifice, but more than that—he was amazed that she had _compassion_ for the monster that held her life, and her father's life, in his hands. It almost made him aware of the "consequences" involved when breaking the spirit of a fiery young woman. But she was wearing a buttoned up black-checkered shirt of his that left her bra exposed. His kind-hearted sentiments left him as his desire for her grew.

They walked to the bedroom, but she seemed a bit out of sorts.

"Yes dear?"

She glanced at him as she took a seat on the edge of his bed.

"Do you think of all this as simply payment?" She asked, indifferent to her own transparency. She wanted him to like her, to care for her at least.

His face did not reveal anything. He measured her, wondering how best to respond. She waited, unsure if she could trust anything that came from that silky tongue of his.

"In a way, yes. We have a deal. _Deals_ are the foundation of society." She had heard this lecture before. He continued. "Don't you think modern society is full of them? Dating, for example. Simply a deal with pretense."

That part was new.

"We're not dating then?" She asked and thought herself naïve.

He agreed, letting out a sharp laugh, and she felt jilted. "My dear, _that_ would include buying you dinner first."

He began to remove his coat when she grabbed his tie and pulled him down into a fierce kiss. As she did so, his right leg hit the bed, sending a jolt of pain to his spine.

He growled and pushed her away, grabbing his leg with his hands.

"You stupid girl." His tone was cutting, but he still did not raise his voice.

She was afraid, but slowly eased closer. "I'm sorry." She sounded sincere and he almost felt bad for his poor reaction.

"It's nothing."

"How did you injure your leg?" She asked. She had asked him before, and he had not responded. Were they close enough now? Surely he trusted her with that much.

Mr. Gold looked at her, fighting against a thin smile. Instead he kissed her cheek in a surprisingly gentle gesture.

"I'm tired. Whether you keep me company or not I don't care."

That felt less than kind. Then again, she weighed his words slowly.

As he removed his coat, tie and shoes to get into bed, Marie didn't have the nerve to leave. Her first thought was that she could go check on her father. That, however, was fast becoming pointless. There had been no changes as of late. What did she expect to happen in the next few hours anyway?

The dusty haired man quirked an eyebrow, giving her his sideways grin. He had almost fully thought she would go, yet here she was, in his bed. He lay down beside her and waited for her response. She put a head on his shoulder and wrapped an arm over him. She slowly brought a leg over his to get even closer. He brought a hand to her long, flowing brown hair.

The pair drifted off to sleep, each lost in their own thoughts.

…

"Come now, dearie… don't avoid the question." The imp stared at her with large muddy eyes and a stupid smirk. She hated that smirk.

"I didn't _avoid_ it. I simply did not answer."

Belle was feisty today. Fortunately for her, he was in a playful mood. He had not had any visitors to pester lately, so he would mess with her instead.

"Well, unless you wish for your lovely _pah-pa h _to suffer, perhaps you might acquiesce to my request." He crouched down in front of where she sat. He hated the stupid bars between them.

She glared at him with aversion. She quickly reminded herself that this deal was, in fact, a choice. She needed to live up to her end for Rumpelstiltskin to live up to his—for her father to live at all. She sighed deeply.

"His name is Gaston." She answered.

For Rumpelstiltskin, a name meant everything. He sat down, crossing his legs. He postured himself to be exactly as Belle before him.

"Well then, tell me about this _charming_ young man." He looked positively gleeful.

She eyed him suspiciously. Why wasn't he getting jealous… or angry?

"He's annoying, mostly. He's loud and crude." She stared at her captor. "Much like _you_, I suppose."

The gold-skinned man batted his hand at her comment. "What does he _do_ for a living, dearie?"

"Hunts, I guess? Gambles probably." Belle had found Gaston to be an annoyingly large hunk of man. He was tall, broad shouldered, handsome. Every girl on her side of the kingdom found him attractive. He could have any one he pleased, yet he found his "heart's desire" to be Belle.

The prisoner watched the irritation grow on her brow. She had confirmed everything he needed to know: she had no interest in this narcissistic man. _Good_. That did not, however, mean the foolish hunter would not come after Rumpelstilskin's prey. And he was not one to _share_.

"Why do you care?" She finally asked. Her leather-clad master stood, and held out a hand to help her up. She took it, and he pulled her close. Her face was through the bars.

"Because _you_ are _mine_ and no one else's. And if I wanted, I could see to it that this Gaston character was… taken care of." He grinned, revealing uneven teeth.

Belle's emerald eyes met his gaze. "I don't plan on _encouraging_ him, if that is what you are getting at."

The long fingered hand released her. "Dearie, your _body_ does that for you."

He laughed at the fact that he could still make her beautiful face blush.


	16. Chapter 16

The town's main grocery store was larger than Marie thought necessary. She never could find everything she needed without asking for assistance at least once during her trips. It was, however, a different thought that embarrassed her as she walked the air-conditioned aisles—she was buying things for Mr. Gold's kitchen. It felt almost domestic. Apparently he usually sent his cook out to do these sorts of errands. Given Marie was his _employee_ however, and since she now spent quite a lot of time at his estate, he thought she would prefer the outing over dusting the same old objects in his antique shop. He had also given the cook an unforeseen vacation what with Marie's recent arrival.

Fortunately, she had her music to keep her company.

_I'm searching for answers  
Not questioned before.  
The curse of awareness,  
There's no peace of mind.  
As your true colors show  
A dangerous sign._

Perhaps it wasn't the most helpful song to be listening to at the moment.

"Marie? Marie!"

She looked up to see a curly haired man waving his hand in front of her.

"Oh, sorry Dr. Hopper. I didn't see you there. How are you?"

He smiled kindly. "Good, good. How have you been? I heard about your father. I'm so sorry."

She felt her emotions bubbling to the surface. "Things have been tough. I'm okay though."

The beige suited man put a hand on her shoulder and Marie thought she might deteriorate into a blubbering mess. She fought the impulse successfully, save the small tear in her eyes.

"You don't have to pretend, Marie. Be true to how you feel. Emotions aren't a bad thing, they often unknowingly influence our decisions when left unchecked." His slightly buck-toothed smile never waned. Marie felt an odd sensation at being touched by someone other than Mr. Gold, but couldn't quite put a finger on it. The truth in his words began to sink in.

"Dr. Hopper…" She couldn't tell him about her liaisons with the wealthiest and most feared man in Storybrooke. She did not care about being judged by the psychiatrist—he would not think less of her for losing herself to the man she was supposed to hate. At her silence, he spoke up.

"Why don't you come by my office later in the week?" His tone was caring.

She was about to protest, but he shook his head, looking at her through his red, circular glasses. They made him look slightly bug-eyed.

"Free of charge. We can catch up." He added.

"I guess that would be okay." She smiled at him.

"I'll see you later then. Have a lovely day."

As he removed his hand from the same shoulder Mr. Gold had squeezed, kissed, bitten, she suddenly felt vulnerable. She gulped, but the good doctor was already bouncing off. Marie forced herself to hold it together, and wondered if meeting with the good-natured psychiatrist was a bright idea after all. She was almost certain Mr. Gold would not like it; then where would she be?

…

"I'm not supposed to be out this late!" Marie protested, following another brunette; the other girl's hair was tied back in a red scrunchie.

"Come _on_, Ree-Ree. Don't be such a worry wart! It'll be fine." Red called back to her friend.

The young girls, no more than eleven or twelve, were traipsing around the woods.

"Papa told me not to go into the forest with you anymore." Marie continued in her fearful manner.

"Why? Because there are _wolves?" _The slightly taller of the two stopped and stared at her bushy-haired friend. "I'm not scared of a dumb dog." She howled for a moment, and it sounded so realistic, before Marie yelled back,

"Stop it! I'm going back."

The other grabbed her hand, and finally dropped the teasing act. "Please, Ree-Ree, I don't want to go by myself. Pretty pleeease?"

Marie couldn't help but smile. Her friend was tough, but Red still needed her. "Okay, Red. I'll go. Where are we going anyway?"

Red smiled broadly. "The abandoned mine!"

The bushy haired one shook her head but continued following and they walked on.

The pair came to the mine soon enough. Red was about to enter when Marie pointed to a sign. "It says there could be dangerous gases down there, Do Not Enter."

Red stared at her. "I get it, you can _read_. Now come _on_!" She pulled Marie in despite her fidgeting.

They walked a little ways into the tunnel and Red pulled out a flashlight. Marie noted its color and shook her head. Did the girl not own any other color? They walked down a few tunnels before even Red began to get nervous.

"There's nothing down here." She said, feigning bored. "Oh well."

A sparkle caught Marie's eye, but she was too willing to leave with Ruby to think twice about checking anything else out.

"Yeah, too bad." She threw her arm around her friend, and they walked out together.

"Better get home before my granny finds out."

"Yeah, papa will be furious." And the girls took off through the woods back to the main street of Storybrooke.

…

"Hey Marie, did you hear?"

The wavy-haired brunette looked up to see the waitress in bright red shorts.

"Hear about what?" Marie hadn't been in the diner for a while, mostly due to Mr. Gold. However, he was on a short business trip so she had time on her hands. She was thankful for his absence too as it meant she could see Dr. Hopper before his return.

"The collapsed mine? I checked it out last night. Then the lovely mayor made a grand speech about how to take care of it… plans to pave over the old thing and all." Red informed her.

Marie shook her head. "She always does. We never did figure out what the purpose of that mine was anyway."

Ruby shrugged, pouring her friend a cup of complimentary coffee. "Nah, but I didn't care why it was there… I just wanted to find treasure."

Marie laughed, and thanked Ruby for the coffee. Her friend left, having other customers to tend to, including the new Emma Swan.

Marie pretended to be captivated by her book as she eavesdropped on Ruby's conversation with the newcomer.

"You don't know what caused it then, Deputy?" She asked. Apparently the sheriff had made Miss Swan the town's deputy. Marie assumed the mayor would be displeased.

"No, Ruby. I don't… not yet anyway." The blond took a long sip of her cinnamon topped hot chocolate. Marie smiled knowingly—Henry liked that drink.

Marie had not spent much time with the boy outside of volunteering in his class periodically. She had always liked the elementary school; it brought back fond memories of her learning to paint or about music or falling in love with her novels. She made a mental note to drop by again sometime, perhaps while Mr. Gold was away or if he became busier than usual. As with many things about her _former_ life, she no longer had time to volunteer at the school regularly. The sad thought fluttered away as she too wondered what could have caused the sinkhole. It was the gossip of the town for now.

…

As Marie went to visit Dr. Hopper, she saw an upset Henry leaving, claiming that the sinkhole was caused by the curse breaking. _The curse?_ Even Marie's sharp mind could not catch on to what on earth the boy was babbling on about.

She gave a short knock on the office door.

"Dr. Hopper?"

The man stood quickly, grabbing a tissue. "Hello Marie. Come in, come in."

Marie could see the tears in his eyes. "I can come back at a better time…"

"Nonsense. Please, sit."

She found a comfortable spot on the couch. The doctor blew his nose and sat down. He looked particularly tired and stressed, quite different than when she had seen him in the market.

"So, Marie. You were saying things have been tough lately?"

It felt odd to see so must distress in Dr. Hopper's face, yet here he was asking her questions about her tough life. She figured that was what psychiatrists had to do—put their issues on hold to help others. She suddenly realized she had been doing a very similar thing for many years now.

"Yes. They have… Do you mind if I lay down? It just seems more…fitting."

At her attempt to make a joke, Archie smiled genuinely. "Of course, Marie. You always have an image in your mind for how things ought to look, don't you?" He was part serious and part probing.

"I guess. I mean, reading puts stories in my head… scenes play in my 'mind's eye' as it were. So I guess I like things to feel like that…"

"Like they could be from a book?" He asked.

"Yeah." She responded.

Dr. Hopper found himself wondering if parental issues were directly connected to a person's need to retreat into fairy tales and novels. The parallels between Marie's and Henry's issues were interesting. Fortunately enough for him, and for Marie, she recognized this as a _desire_ and not a _reality_.

"I think you may need to think more about why that is." He added.

"Real life is tiring. Hard. My dad is in the hospital. I'm working to pay off his debts. I can't go to school anymore…" She trailed off.

The curly haired doctor released a "hmmm" as he listened, nodding. "That would make me want to escape into anything I could find."

Marie sat up quickly, and stared at Dr. Hopper. Her intensity startled him, but he just quirked his head and waited.

"Is it wrong to escape into the nearest thing that will accept you?" She asked, almost pleading.

As Archie thought about her question, he fiddled with his sleeve, rolling it up a bit. "I think that depends. If the thing you are running to helps you to process your life so that you can better face it, that is one thing… if it is simply numbing, it often does more harm than help."

"I don't mean, like, _hard drugs,_ Dr. Hopper." She added, not wanting to give the wrong impression. But she also couldn't give him the "right" impression either.

"That's good. I don't recommend that." He smiled at her, and she let out a small laugh at his attempt to jest.

"I'll keep that in mind. But really…" Her face got pensive again, "Is it wrong to want something for myself?"

He leaned forward, his hands hanging loosely off his knees in front of him. "I think the question is… why do you think this _thing_ is so wrong?"

Marie shifted to lay down again and stared at the ceiling. The two of them stayed like that silently for some time before she sighed.

"Because it feels wrong… well, not wrong so much as… I'm ashamed."

Dr. Hopper's mind had been racing since she asked the question the first time. Based on her attitude and shift in tone, he was trying to deduce what exactly this _thing _was. Her particular attachment to it led him to wonder if it was an addiction… but given it wasn't drugs, and she was sober every time he met her, he thought that substance abuse was clearly not it. Her emotions seemed to be a bit keyed up, though. He continued to contemplate as he asked another question.

"Why are you ashamed?"

"I don't want to be judged." Her voice was almost a whisper. Her fast response held the answer.

"Why?"

Part of Marie wanted to jump up and leave. If she had known he would just ask 'why' again and again, she would have saved her time… yet this external processing was helping her to sort through some of her own issues. Besides, Dr. Hopper was a sincere and gentle man, simply trying to help her understand the situation and her responses. She pushed through her angst enough to analyze herself.

And this is where she found:

She realized she would rather spend a night at Mr. Gold's estate than alone in her own house where she was reminded of her father's failing condition, which had a way of reinforcing the fact that her mother was already dead. She realized she was growing fond of their literary discussions and loved reading his books. She even began to think she liked the sex. It wasn't _making love_ as her less critically acclaimed books had referred to it. It was rougher, more carnal, less romantic. It was, after all, Mr. Gold. Still, something about it made her feel complete. And he could be gentle when he stroked her hair or touched her cheek or kissed her neck. The moments after in bed, when she could feel him, she had thought that perhaps, one day, things might change.

"I want people to like me, to not think of me as a freak… you remember my childhood… but, I also don't want to be judged for liking something others don't approve of." She babbled.

Part of the psychiatrist wondered if she was just smoking or something. That was definitely a habit he had seen others turn to when coping with high amounts of stress, or weed. Either way, he felt it unnecessary to worry for now.

"Marie, I'm sure whatever you're doing cannot be _that_ bad." He smiled kindly yet again. "You are a brilliant young woman who has had to deal with a lot in life. So long as you aren't hurting yourself or others, then I'm sure it'll be ok. Maybe, when you feel more comfortable with everything, you can let me know more about what it is?"

He scanned her expression, trying to fully understand why it was she worried so much about having something for herself. She was someone who was always sacrificing for the needs of others. Her sudden internal torment did not alarm him so much as make him want to hug her. The poor young woman deserved some happiness, wherever it came from. Of course, he was now going to be alert to her behavior around town—he wanted to be sure she was not into anything dangerous or damaging.

The brunette nodded and stood. They hadn't spoken for very long, but she felt better nonetheless.

"Thank you, Dr. Hopper. If I had money, I would come back."

"Oh, that isn't necessary. We can just 'catch up' again next week." He smiled.

She left with his warm nod and soft gaze following her. She felt sorry for not telling him everything, but the feeling quickly faded as she ran into a frustrated blond outside.

"Emma?" Marie asked, registering the woman in a bright red leather jacket.

"Hello, uh, Marie? Is Archie in?" Emma was clearly upset.

"Yes, he is."

"Thanks." The woman hurried on down the hallway to the psychiatrist.

Although she was curious about the encounter, as Marie left the building, it was Dr. Hopper's kind words that stuck with her.

"_So long as you aren't hurting yourself…"_

She did not know how to answer that just yet.

…

The walk to Mr. Gold's was becoming increasingly bothersome. It was just too long, particularly when he gave her such short notice that he expected her. She was even more annoyed that when she finally arrived, he was in the shower.

Since he did not wish her to accompany him, she let out an irritated sigh and walked downstairs. Her first thought was to keep busy in the study. But her mind, tired of a day contemplating her own mental state, did not crave analyzing books as it normally did. She, instead, entered the pristine living room. In front of the wide window overlooking the forest was a grand piano. Marie took a seat and lifted the cover so that her fingers could find the keys.

She began by warming up with a few classical tunes, slowly shifting into more modern melodies. Soon, she was playing things she had never heard before but that gripped her, lost in a reverie of sound. Her hands danced along the ivory keys as she swayed with the music, allowing her motions to dictate her appendages, free of prescribed notes.

Marie did not realize the tall, black suited man standing in the shadows watching her. She did not hear his cane's dull thud as he came closer to her. She did not notice that he had taken a seat beside her on the black padded bench.

What caught her was the sound. _His_ sound.

As she played the higher keys, the lower ones met her ear. She glanced over at Mr. Gold. He moved as if he knew the next note she would play before her finger even reached for it. Their respective roles complimented each other, and aside from a knowing grin, he too was consumed by the beautiful sound they were creating, together.

When the song reached a natural climax and ended, Marie pulled her hands away from the piano and looked into the dark eyes of the man beside her.

She had so many questions about where he learned to play and how he managed to keep up with her. But instead, she leaned forward so that her full lips could meet with his thin smile.

Mr. Gold grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled her into himself, deepening the kiss. A few moments later, a low chuckle escaped his lips.

"You visited Dr. Hopper." He said simply.

The air caught in her lungs.

"Yes." She said quietly.

His eyes did not leave hers for even a moment. His grin revealed his unevenly set teeth.

"And?" He asked.

"And what?" Her fear was giving way to her fight or flight instinct. He still held her hair in his long fingered grip, so the spark was growing in her eyes.

"And… did you talk about me?" He prodded.

She let out a laugh that sounded unlike her. It was not light-hearted. It was not teasing. It was almost dark and very bitter.

"And why would I do that?"

Mr. Gold pulled her into another plundering kiss. This time, she was not prepared for the tongue that sought entrance into her mouth. She soon gave way as he brought his free hand up to her collarbone. Her body recalled the familiar sensation she had their first time, when he had taken her in his shop in a similar fashion. Then she had experienced something else the pair could do so well together.

As she moaned, Mr. Gold pulled away. "I will ask again. Did you talk about me?"

Her eyes were full of desire, causing Mr. Gold to hold the smile trying to creep to his thin lips at bay for now. He needed to be stern with her; he needed to know.

"No." She finally answered.

He let his dimples find their respective positions as his grin came into view. "Good. You can meet with him all you like, so long as I do not become a topic of discussion."

As he spoke he still held the back of her neck, lightly playing with it. His hands made it harder for Marie to argue or protest. She took a deep breath.

"I understand." She whispered.

"_Grand_." He let a hand fall to her knee, currently covered by a pair of skinny black jeans. Marie felt a tingle crawl down her spine.

"Come, dear. Let's get something to eat."

His abrupt change of subject bothered her. She stared at him as he stood, wondering what exactly he had planned. But before he could reach for his cane, she snatched it. Although he still had a thin smirk, his eyes flashed. He looked upset.

"Can't go anywhere without this, can you?" Her voice was taunting.

Mr. Gold took a step closer with his good leg, then the right one followed slowly. "Give me my cane, _dear_."

"Or what?" She was practically being _playful._

Mr. Gold's eyebrow quirked up as the woman before him was… _flirting_ with him. At his aghast expression, Marie let out a soft laugh.

The dusty haired man thought that its musical quality rivaled their recent duo on the piano. His eyes scanned her body and he could hold his carnal desires back no longer. He put his hand out for his cane, giving her a steady glare.

Marie felt irritated with her "employer." Was he seriously not going to play along? She was trying, and he didn't seem to care.

As she slowly set the cane in his long-fingered hand, he yanked it, pulling her into him. He quickly maneuvered the cane such that it was around her back, forcing her against him. Marie noted his warmth and the familiar clean scent. He pulled the cane into her spine just enough to cause pain.

"Or else." He captured her lips in his own.

Marie was not fully aware of how they got there, but he was soon atop her on the black leather couch in the living room. She looked up at him, emerald eyes sparkling fiercely. Mr. Gold searched her eyes for answers, but found only lust.

She _wanted_ him. His dusty brown hair hung in his face, and Marie brought a hand up slowly, gently brushing it away. He grabbed her hand, kissing her palm. She smiled coyly.

"Ask nicely, dearie." His warm breath against her ear. He was making her wild with passion. Marie's chest tightened as she longed for him, to feel close again.

"Please." She batted her eye lashes flirtateiously.

Her request reminded Mr. Gold of their first time, when he had finally laid claim to what was rightfully his. She had given in, to later find that he was good at _many_ things. If she was in another state of mind, she may have questioned his fondness for the word 'please'. Her arms found his black coat and slowly pushed it off his shoulders; he tossed it aside. She began to unbutton the bright cranberry shirt underneath. He gave a low laugh as he watched her fervently try to undress him.

"My sweet, what if there are lurkers in the woods." He nodded his head towards the large window.

"That forest is deserted." She said absent-mindedly. Part of her was afraid he'd suddenly pull away her, uninterested. She had never been the one to initiate and was wary that he may not like it.

He chuckled. "Little children often run to play in those trees."

"Then let's scare them into staying home next time." Her persistence enthralled him.

"Dearie, what do you… _desire?" _His dark eyes stared into her emerald ones.

Her voice was more air than words.

"_You_."


	17. Chapter 17

Marie awoke late in the day. She smiled as she turned to see Mr. Gold asleep beside her. The night had been long, to say the least. They had almost forgotten to eat and rehydrate until the short stint around the kitchen. A mischievous smile curled on her lips as she recalled the unsanitary things that occurred there.

Marie rolled so that she was leaning on his chest. He stirred, but did not open his eyes.

As she lay in silence, she couldn't help but think that, for whatever reason, he was letting her enjoy the aftermath. He did not jump to discussing deeper matters. He did not tell her to go clean his shop. He did not insist on continuing where they left off that night, or _morning._ She was able to enjoy him.

Mr. Gold let Marie rest upon his chest. He was slowly becoming convinced that he had gotten more than he bargained for. He began ruminating on a way to remedy the situation.

…

"You promised that you would make him better." Belle glared at the gold skinned man sitting on his cot in the shadows of his cell. It was her second visit, but still of her own accord.

"Ah…dearie, I said 'a life for a life.'" His smooth talk and calm demeanor as he sat hunched over threw her off a moment. He bounced from his spot and stalked towards the bars.

He continued in his quirky tuneful voice, "Since I've been locked away, I can't fully enjoy my _re-ward!" _

The torchlight flickered over her skin, and Rumpelstiltskin thought she truly looked like a treasure to be claimed.

"You…you can." She spoke softly.

The imp beheld the gorgeous creature before him that had for so long been out of his reach. He thought time and time again how he could pleasure her through the bars. He had dreamt of positions the two could still enjoy despite his damned cage.

Now, however, she was the one willingly offering herself.

His eyebrows pulled together as he sneered at her.

"You seem to have forgotten the matter of these." His knuckles banged against the jagged poles that lined his prison.

"There are…other ways."

He raised an eyebrow. "I know, my sweet, but those don't quite due for what _I_ had in mind."

She leaned up against the bars of the enclosure, her gaze never leaving his. The long fingered hands wrapped around her back, pulling her roughly into them, their bodies contacting for the first time.

A gasp escaped Belle as she felt the strain in her chest from the hard poles jabbing into her ribs. His leather attire, which had looked sharp to her, was fortunately softer than expected.

Rumpelstiltskin admired her strength and self-sacrifice. As he held her and stared deep into her eyes—nay, her soul—he recalled that this was a most _unique_ deal. Never had someone made a deal to give up something they held dear for someone else's life. Had her father, Luc, made the deal himself it would not have shocked Rumpelstiltskin so. Yet here, currently in his grasp, was a young maiden who gave up everything that her already _old_ father might live longer. The imp thought it more than simply _love_, perhaps even an obsession. This girl had already lost her mother at a young age; the loss of another parent may have shattered her completely.

Never had a deal yielded such satisfying promise for him either. He had so many plots in the works: controlling princes and princesses, claiming young royals as pawns in his endless schemes, but never did he have a prize to call his own. Yet part of him wondered _why_ he wanted her so. Why her? She was beautiful, yes, but certainly others would make such deals? A foggy thought crossed his mind, that perhaps he was getting something more out of this than whatever pleasure would come—in this world or the next.

"You would give yourself to _me_?" He bore his teeth as he spoke, his smile causing deep lines all over his face, murky eyes staring at her.

She nodded, but her countenance fell. "Yes."

"_Here?"_ His eyes left hers a moment taking in the cave and his small cell.

"Yes."

"And why is that, _Belle_?"

"Because… I am yours."

Rumpelstiltskin unclasped her golden cloak with one hand, still holding her against himself and the bars. As the beautiful article of clothing fell, he took in her light blue dress underneath—simple, befitting a carpenter's daughter, yet exquisite as it hugged her form. He bought his hand to the top of her dress and slipped it down to reveal her shoulder. He kissed it, slowly, and more gently than Belle would have expected. Her body had never been touched like that before by any man…or monster. Despite her best efforts, she felt her chest tighten and her breath catch. The golden man bit into her neck, and she released a small moan. Her hands instinctively held on to the bars.

He shoved her away, almost causing her to trip as she stumbled backwards. When she steadied herself, she stared at him stunned, unsure what to do or say.

"What…what is wrong?" Her stutter was partially due to fear that he would not keep his deal and heal her father. Some of it was, however, due to a slight pang of rejection.

"Your father is healed. Go see him."

She stared into the murky eyes feeling truly puzzled. She hadn't _pleasured_ him. She had done nothing particularly different. And why did he push her away? She would ask an open question to see what he would answer first.

"But why?"

He smirked. "You will pay a high price in time, _dearie_. For now, you can keep me company by informing me of the going-ons about the kingdom." He looked at his almost black nails, as if paying only a little attention to Belle.

She retrieved her golden cloak as she left him. She wondered why he pushed her away, but would take the healing of her father as good news, the best news. She turned back before she had fully reached the hallway's shadows. Her eyes looked back at her captive captor, who was watching her as she walked away.

"Thank you."

As Rumpelstiltskin watched her disappear down the tunnel to freedom, his gaze became distant and his eyes looked even murkier than usual. He grinned as his lovely pet went to her _papa._ As the future clouded his mind and vision, he muttered to the spiders and mice keeping him company in the cave:

"Thank you, _Marie_."


	18. Chapter 18

Papa lay in bed, eyes drooping as he stared at the ceiling. He heard a shuffle at the foot of his bed. He was too weak to lift his head to look, but as his eyes refocused he saw his lovely little girl standing there.

Marie smiled broadly as she walked to her father's bedside.

"Hello, papa."

The man still could not speak without turning into a coughing fit, but his eyes were bright at his child's arrival. She sat in her usual place beside him, and put a hand on his. For the first time since being admitted to the hospital, her father took her hand in his own. He was incapable of much else, but this alone gave Marie something she had desperately needed—_hope_.

"You are getting stronger!" She was so excited her voice was louder and squeakier than intended. "Oh, sorry." She smiled, cheeks a little rosy. Her father merely nodded. Now that her father was awake and seemed to be cognizant, Marie took the rare opportunity to tell him about her week.

She was not specific as to the details concerning Mr. Gold, but she did tell her father that working for the man was not so bad. He was relatively kind and would let her off early most days to visit, though papa was usually asleep already. She told him about the odd trinkets in the shop that were her favorite, and the ones that she did not like so much, particularly a pair of creepy looking wooden dolls. As she told her father, she began to realize that Mr. Gold seemed to have a rare collection of trinkets around his shop that had some literary references: the sculpture of Hades and Persephone, the genie lamp, a few glass objects of Alice and Wonderland, a pair of glass slippers. She almost laughed at her silly thought that Mr. Gold was really just a kid at heart.

She told her father about reconnecting with Ruby, although they didn't talk to each other as often as she would like, not yet anyways.

At the mention of her session with Dr. Hopper, the old man's eyes looked solemn.

"It's okay, papa. I just thought it would be good to have someone to talk to… until you are well again." Her smile was small but genuine. "Archie says hello."

Her father's gaze shifted to the ceiling and a few tears dripped down his broad cheeks. Marie grabbed the wash cloth kept beside his bed and padded his eyes gently.

"Papa… I'm doing alright. I just want you well. Don't worry about me, and just work on getting your health back." She tried to reassure him. Marie remembered her father being a man of great strength and creativity, always jovial but in a strong, silent sort of way. It was as if his body emitted an aura of cheer that was contagious to those around him. Her mother, what little she could recall, had always been the life of the party, but her father often set the tone by smiling along to her mother's good-natured antics. Each one the perfect compliment to the other.

Marie could tell her father was saddened by her forced independence—not only was she motherless, but because of his frail body, she was damn near fatherless too. Marie, however, did not hold any of this against her papa. He was a kind-hearted, caring, strong man. He had always provided well for her and cherished her. If he were to be bed-ridden for the rest of her life, it would be no obligation for Marie to care for him, not at all.

Her papa found her eyes again, this time they held a sparkle.

"I love you too." She kissed his forehead.

Having talked at him for over an hour, she let him drift into a deep sleep and stayed by his side a little while longer.

…

Mr. Gold was going to be out and about for the day, so Marie decided to clean the shop for the first time in a week. It seemed that Mr. Gold really preferred that she "work" elsewhere. Still, since he was preoccupied she thought it would make sense and she could be useful. Ruby was working and her father was resting, so she had no where else to be.

As she dusted, she thought of her father's growing strength. The doctors continued to describe his condition as "stable," but Marie was hopeful that he was on the path towards recovery. She was so excited, she wanted to tell people. She realized that her sphere only included three—Dr. Hopper, Ruby, and Mr. Gold. She also realized of the three, she wanted Mr. Gold to be the first to know, when she felt ready to tell him.

…

Mr. Gold left the bed and dressed more quickly than usual.

"Where are you going?" She watched him move gracefully, despite the damaged leg. She wanted to ask about it again, but knew it would be pointless.

"I have a meeting." He said it in the tone that was meant she should stop asking questions.

Marie was in a question-asking mood and ignored it.

"With who?"

"With _whom_, dearie." He glanced up at her, a small grin causing smile lines to form around his dark brown eyes. Marie was beginning to enjoy them immensely.

"Fine, with whom?"

Although he was slightly annoyed, he had always admired her persistence. Most people backed down quickly. She was _different_. He also could not fault her given the many _wonderful_ things she had done to him moments ago. He thought he would be limping a little more than usual for a day or so. Mr. Gold caught himself admiring her form, hugged by the black satin sheets. Knowing she was nude beneath it did not make him feel mentally prepared for his meeting with—

"Madame mayor." He answered.

Marie quirked an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"Yes. And before you ask _more_ questions, it is a _private _business matter. I value discretion, my _sweet_ Marie."

She laughed lightly. "I, of all people, know that."

He gave her a small smile.

"Yes, I like that about you." His dark eyes found hers, lingering longer than necessary.

Marie watched him turn on his heel as he left the bedroom. She let herself dwell on the thought—he _liked_ her. Well, he liked _something_ about her. She lay in bed for a while thinking about what he had said, a small smile firmly planted on her full lips.

…

As she had nothing else to do with the shop clean, Mr. Gold meeting with various clients, Dr. Hopper booked up for the day, and her father sleeping, Marie decided to go for a run through the woods. She had always enjoyed the forest and knew a particularly scenic trail that went along a lovely trickling stream.

Marie jogged out of sight of Mr. Gold's home and soon found her way to her favorite path. Her stride was long and smooth despite the lack of exercise as of late. The thought of her regular physical activities including mostly bedding Mr. Gold made her smile as a sultry voice played on her bright blue ear buds:

"_I want to reconcile the violence in your heart,  
I want to recognize your beauty is not just a mask,  
I want to exorcise the demons from your past,  
I want to satisfy the undisclosed desires in your heart,  
You trick your lovers,  
That you're wicked and divine,  
You may be a sinner,  
But your innocence is mine."_

The song had Marie musing about her situation when she caught sight of a blue jay darting in and out of the trees. She let her eyes follow it as it flew higher and higher and—

WACK!

Marie's vision was blurry with black splotches for a few moments. It cleared slowly and she could make out blue sky and clouds peaking through the treetops. She coughed, her head pounding.

"Oh my god! I am so sorry."

The man, who looked to be in his late twenties, was crouching down beside Marie. She did not find him unattractive with his short black hair and light blue eyes, with a small amount of facial scruff.

She smiled weakly.

"Oh, it's alright." She sat up and he moved to help her. She did not require assistance and stood on her own.

"I'm sorry, I must have been distracted." The man said kindly, looking slightly embarrassed.

"Yeah, me too. Music." She bent down to pick up her fallen mp3 player. The man nodded.

"Yeah, same. I was listening to Shaggy." He laughed a little. "I'm Gavin."

He put a strong hand out for Marie. The man seemed like an interesting combination of confidence and nervousness. She thought it cute, if not a little odd.

"Marie." She took his hand, but the man's expression changed to one of shock.

"Marie…Dupont?" He asked.

She raised an eyebrow. "Yes?"

"You were in elementary with my younger brother... Derrick Stone?"

Marie raked her mind for the memories at a loss. Suddenly, something clicked. She felt like she knew him, but her childhood was mostly consumed by the loss of her mother and memories with Red or her papa.

"Oh, riiight. Hi Gavin, how have you been?"

"Great, great. You look great too. Wow. That's the damnedest thing."

Marie's head was spinning, not just from the recent collision.

"Yeah, what are you up to these days?" She asked, trying to be polite.

"I'm a lawyer now." Marie gawked a little.

"Dang. So nothing then, eh?" She laughed a little and started walking along the trail. Gavin walked with her.

"Yeah, you know, just seven years of my life gone without a trace." He jeered, "So, what do you do?"

"Well, you know, I'm a slutty mistress. Prostitute on the off days, when the wife is home." She walked as if she hadn't said anything alarming. Part of it was true; she could sometimes _feel_ like a slutty mistress. Was it still mistress even if the man wasn't married?

Gavin chuckled. "Ah, I heard there was some brunette working the corner in Storybrooke. I couldn't believe it."

Marie enjoyed that he was playing along. She thought about jogging again, but she had nowhere else to be so she thought she ought to take her time. Taking it slow would allow her head to stop throbbing quicker.

"You know, you should probably clean that." The man was pointing to her thigh. She hadn't realized the slight burning sensation until he commented on it. She turned to get a better look at it and saw the dirty and red-raw skin with a little blood.

"Oh, yeah. That looks bad." Gavin added.

Marie smiled. "I'm sure it'll be fine. I'll just clean it when I go home."

"Come on, my house is a mile away. We can clean it there." His smile made him look surprisingly charming.

"Yeah, okay." She gave in. He could give her a ride back if nothing else.

The pair walked on, updating each other on their lives. Gavin had received a degree in Business Management, passed the bar, and began working as an Insurance attorney at his uncle's law firm. Derrick became a mechanic and eventually owned his own car shop. Both were doing quite well. Marie shared about her classes, and how she had to take a break in order to care for her father. She conveniently left out the part about his debt to Mr. Gold, and instead said the man had kindly employed her given the current circumstances.

"Really? Never thought that snake would do such a thing."

A sudden protectiveness burst within her.

"He's a good man." She said stubbornly.

"No he isn't." Gavin did not seem aware of Marie's change in tone, still acting as though they were good friends catching up. In truth, they hadn't really known each other very well at all. It wasn't every day Gavin ran into someone he remembered from his childhood, though, so he felt closer than was perhaps warranted.

"Well, he is good to me at least." Marie replied, unsure if "good" was the most accurate word choice.

Gavin just nodded along, admiring the greenery.

"Fair enough." His smile broadened. "Well, here we are!"

Gavin's house was larger than Marie had expected, though it did not rival Mr. Gold's mansion. It had a very modern look, with angular architecture and many windows. Gavin led her to the front door and into his kitchen—all stainless steel appliances, black and white countertops. Marie thought it looked like something out of a catalog, not like Mr. Gold's elegant yet rustic kitchen, full of dark woods and earthy colors. It was hard to say which style she preferred as both certainly had their merits. One felt crisp and clean while the other homier. She thought that Gavin's kitchen, though picturesque, would feel odd to cook in, as it would be a shame to get it dirty.

The athletically built man handed her a washcloth soaked in hot water. She began to wipe at her thigh and began to feel awkward to do so in front of him.

"Um, do you have a bathroom?" She asked.

Gavin bounced his eyes back to her face. "Oh, yeah, of course. Around the corner." He nodded his head in the proper direction.

Marie let out a small laugh as she walked down the hallway.

Once her scrape was cleaned and covered with ointment from his cabinet, she returned to the kitchen. Gavin had made a smoothie while she was gone.

"Thanks." She said, as he handed her the pink liquid.

"I figured you'd be hungry. Need your energy back before you get back to sexy times."

Marie was startled and blushed a little before she recalled her earlier joke about being the town hooker.

"Ah, yes, certainly. That is why I stay fit." She jokingly flexed her muscles. Marie felt uncomfortable with this man. While Mr. Gold was not the easiest to get along with, there was something comfortable about his presence. Gavin was new—young, fit, kind, flirtatious. She felt out of her element in so many ways.

Gavin chuckled, taking a drink.

They continued to make small talk between sips until Marie glanced at the clock. She needed to go soon. She could walk and make good time. As Gavin showed her out, he paused at the door.

"Marie?" He sounded hesitant, like he had when they first met in the forest.

"Yes?" She turned to face him.

"Would you… would you like to go out sometime?"

This time Marie had valid reason to blush. She couldn't help but think that if this man knew what she _really_ did to make ends meet he would not have asked. Then again, she didn't just _do_ Gold for the money. She enjoyed his company, at least most times. When they actually discussed literature or life, it was enthralling. Then again, Mr. Gold had been _very_ clear that the two were not dating. If she said yes, it was _just _a date…what would be the harm?

"Sure. Yeah. Sounds fun." She smiled.

Gavin grinned broadly. "Great!"

The pair exchanged numbers before Marie headed back to her employer's house.

…

Ruby and Marie watched the boy's varsity soccer team get creamed.

"Damn. That sucked." Ruby said bluntly, walking away from the field.

Marie jogged to catch up.

"It wasn't _that_ bad."

She smiled at her friend, staring at the new red streak in Ruby's hair. Marie wished her father would let her color her hair, maybe blue or gold highlights, but he had said it was inappropriate for a thirteen year old.

"You just liked the view." Red teased her slightly shorter counterpart. The pair was still inseparable.

"No!" Marie protested, but knew Ruby was onto something, and she wouldn't let it go.

"Yeah. I saw you watching the goalie." She nudged Marie in the ribs with her elbow.

Marie shoved Ruby playfully, laughing.

"So!" She couldn't stop giggling. The young man, with his short, but slightly wavy, black hair and blue eyes was positively gorgeous. Of course, he was a _senior_. Like _that_ would ever happen.

The two girls continued to attack each other as they ran off the high school's field and towards the diner where a fresh bowl of Granny's homemade macaroni and cheese would be waiting for them.

…

Author's note: aw, I know there wasn't much Gold this chapter. But trust me, he will be back—with a vengeance! And thank you sooo much for the reviews! I love the love!


	19. Chapter 19

The jog back to Mr. Gold's mansion left Marie out of breath. Though she had not intended to keep that pace, after the unforeseen amount of time spent with Gavin, she thought it best to rush things along. She kicked off her tennis shoes and made a b-line towards the downstairs shower. As Marie walked pass the study, she heard the familiar lightly-accented voice.

"You are back." He said smoothly.

Mr. Gold was sitting in his large sofa-like chair holding a leather bound book. As he caught sight of Marie, he put it on the table beside him. The hand gesture for her to come over was superfluous as Marie instinctively began to walk towards the finely suited gentleman.

As Marie drew closer, she could see Mr. Gold knew. The glint in his eyes was all too familiar and it complimented his sideways grin. Marie smiled back, trying not to seem suspicious, though her heart was already starting to beat a little faster.

"I went for a run." She was about to sit down beside him when he took her arm and pulled her to himself. His pianist appendages found her hips, with only her basketball shorts between their smooth tips and her sweaty flesh. Marie moved to straddle him, weary of his injured leg.

As Mr. Gold began to squeeze her fit thighs, she winced in pain. His eyes flashed again.

"Is something wrong?" He voiced his concern before adding, "Let me take a look. Stand up."

Marie looked at Mr. Gold's dark eyes. His face did not betray anything. She obeyed his command.

His long fingers slowly pulled the navy blue shorts up, grazing her thigh as they went. He came to the part of her flesh that was raw, white and red from where she had fallen. Marie's heart raced within her chest and the air caught within her lungs as he touched the scrape.

"Oh, my dear, this wound looks painful." He looked up at her.

Marie gulped. "It isn't so bad."

He touched it again, this time a little rougher, _accidentally _being less mindful of the damaged skin. Marie hissed as it burned.

"You are a terrible liar, my sweet."

Marie glanced at him over her shoulder, noting the continuous sideways grin and a glimmer of something unrecognizable in his eyes. Mr. Gold released her leg altogether, and she turned to face him.

"How did it _happen_?" His face was stern.

"I fell while jogging." She was not going to get out of this.

"Ah, being clumsy again." His voice was airy, but then found more cheer than Marie expected as he continued, "I don't like seeing you… _sore_, from anything other than _me._"

As she recalled the small bruises on shoulders and neck from his nips, she blushed.

"Most unfortunate. I had a _grand_ evening planned for us." He added, cupping her face and revealing his few metal teeth as he smirked.

Marie scanned his eyes, feeling as though she had missed a vital piece of information during their interaction. Something was off. Instead of trying to comprehend what it was exactly, she became distracted by his evening expectations. Part of her still hoped they could be met, to one degree or another. The adrenalin she had accumulated from running and this somewhat frightening interaction could quickly transition to other heart-racing activities. She felt guilty for desiring such a thing after agreeing to a date with Gavin. The thought of him caused her to hesitate a moment longer than she should have as Mr. Gold began to look deviously impatient.

"We can still spend time together." She added.

She registered the words falling from her own tongue as strange and wanted to kick herself for the way it made her appear—a pathetic, needy girl desperate for _his_ attention. In that moment she hated Gavin for revealing that something was missing in her life; she had long forgotten a desire for true companionship. With a dying father, school, mortgages to pay and work to be done, one found little time for a "personal" life. Her contract with Gold was far from a relationship, as he had always made quite clear. It met certain needs, but he was not the charming guy she had imagined ending up with, one day.

Mr. Gold looked at her through his unreadable mask. Marie wished she could take it back. His gaze was penetrating with a different intensity than his lustful stares often had. It was as though she stood on a scale being measured against something, if only she knew what that _something_ was.

Eventually, his eyebrow lifted.

"Oh? And what would you like to do?"

She shrugged and he fought a grin. Her need for him—whether sexual or emotional—was a delicacy he could not and would not pass up.

"I don't know."

He let her railing emotions sink in. He observed her self-loathing written on her face, as if every concession to her need for him was dissolving a piece of her soul. He let his grin appear.

"What then would we do together, my dear?"

He took a seat again on the chair, and pointed to the one next to him. It reminded her of their first luncheon in the diner. She smiled at the thought.

"Anything. Everything. We could talk about books, or read together?"

This time he chuckled as she collapsed into the chair defeated, though looking a bit insulted by his laugh.

"Yes, I should have expected as much. While I find our little discussions…_enlightening_…I should think we can find another topic of mutual interest."

Marie did not know if this was a free invitation or if Mr. Gold already had one such topic in mind. Either way it put her on edge as she waited, anticipating where this could possibly go. An idea came to the fore of her mind.

"How about…how you injured your leg?" She asked.

Mr. Gold took her in from head to toe. She was an exquisite creature with a surprising amount of gumption that often left him in awe—though he was quite good at recovering in a manner that gave her no indication of how intriguing she was to him. Again the amount of time between responses was agonizing for Marie, but when he finally spoke it was with a small smile. He sighed.

"I warn you—it is a dull tale. I was walking on a very old wooden floor when a board gave way. My leg fell through and was punctured in numerous places by rusty nails and shards of wood. Enough of the muscle was mutilated that I required medical attention. Unfortunately, while I battled the infection successfully, the leg was not entirely salvageable. So it is I have need of this from now on." He gestured to the cane leaning against the arm of his chair.

Marie was stunned that he answered, but more disappointed by the tale than she expected.

"Why couldn't you just tell me that weeks ago?" She tried to understand and failed. He had kept such a simple thing from her, and she wanted to know why.

"It was a _personal_ matter. I did not find it particularly relevant information." He paused. "How is your father?"

Marie did not hesitate given the look in his eye.

"That is a personal matter." Her face was cold.

Mr. Gold smiled. "Oh yes, yes it is. But the difference, my dear, is that it is quite relevant to me. It is a matter of our _arrangement_. My clients _are_ my business."

She stared at him, but again felt defeated.

"That is hardly fair."

His voice was airy again, causing a chill down her spine.

"You, of all people, should know that life is not _fair_." His thin lips curved ever so slightly.

Yet, despite how intensely he gazed at her, there was something distant about him. He was both attentive and occupied. Marie needed to collect her thoughts, to think more about the encounter with Gavin and the feelings it had stirred up. It was as if a light had gone off in her own little world, revealing that the dark night was covered in a heavy fog—her utter confusion as to her own desires.

She stood, and Mr. Gold watched her in silence.

"I'm going to shower. We can talk about my father's condition later." She felt a newfound boldness, but she also knew most of it was driven by a need to be alone and reflect.

"If that is what you _want_." The slender man did not move. He sat with a stillness that made her think of a lion about to pounce. He certainly could move gracefully enough to be part feline. She gulped.

"It is." She added.

Mr. Gold's gaze practically burned through the back of her t-shirt as she left his study. She exhaled at the door, feeling free, for now.

…

During the much-needed refreshment, Marie's mind covered a good bit of metaphorical ground. She thought about her father's returning strength. He was finally showing signs of recovery, even if the doctors still said they had no reason to expect such improvements. She had wanted to tell Mr. Gold the good news so much upon leaving the hospital. But as she lathered her hair with the cherry-blossom shampoo, she realized that Mr. Gold would likely be less than ecstatic. If her father were well, he would go home. If he were home, Marie would spend more time at home as well. Part of her liked the idea of distance from the wealthy man. She wondered what would become of their deal if her father no longer required the expensive drugs and daily watch, if he was no longer spending every night in an overly priced illness infested hotel room. How much was sex with Marie worth? Would she really be free?

More importantly, did she want to be?

…

Marie followed her nose to the kitchen, still drying her hair.

"What are you doing?" She looked at her keeper quizzically.

Mr. Gold turned so she could see he was clad in a black apron to protect his even blacker suit from getting splashed with various sauces and seasonings. Marie could not stop the laughter that escaped her lips, no matter how hard she tried.

"Turning straw to gold." He let the sarcastic phrase sink in a moment.

Nothing. He really wished others could revel in his wit. Alas, the lack of memories could really make his life dull. Fortunately, he had his beauty.

He continued, "Cooking, dearie. Contrary to your presumptions, I _am_ able to feed myself. And you, if you should wish it."

Marie stood beside him, letting the delectable scent of garlic, butter, and parmesan fill her nostrils as she inhaled deeply.

"What is it?"

"It _will_ be chicken cordon bleu." The light French accent made for an interesting change from his usual Scottish. Though it did not fit him, it made Marie smile.

"J'aime poulet cordon bleu, c'est mon favoris."

"Ah, merveilleuse." He smiled. "Now leave me in peace so I can finish. I will come collect you when I am done." He returned to stirring the creamy white wine sauce.

Before she left, Marie squeezed him around the waist. Mr. Gold seemed only slightly irritated by it and she left him. She would never be able to get the image of him in an apron out of her head as long as she lived.

…

Rumpelstiltskin's gold hands held the bars as he waited for her to answer his call. That tricksy little ring he had given to her was certainly useful. Not only did she come to do him little favors here or there, she also came when he wanted to keep her from that blasted Gaston. The fact that some old dwarves could construct a prison to keep him locked away frustrated him to no end. He would eliminate the race first chance he got. While he had planned the entire thing, that would not save their kind from his growing anger.

Then _she_ came, and his more vile thoughts of miniature torture devices were forgotten. Besides, he had _other_ means to get revenge.

"What's this? A _visitor?"_ He let out a chuckle that half-resembled a squeal.

Belle stared at him under the shadow of her golden cloak, although he could see her scowl clearly—the garment's magic was useless on him.

"A prisoner does not visit her cell. She returns to it." The dreariness in her voice made the gold-skinned man smile broadly, face streaked with deep lines.

"Now, now my pet. This place is not so bad." Rumpelstiltskin let his hands rest together on one of the shorter vertical spokes that came to about his waist. Belle thought it looked like he was leaning on a cane. The thought was fleeting given his peculiar glee.

"So, what was the precious _Belle_ up to before she was summoned?"

She sighed, removing the hood of the golden cloak.

"Gaston was raving about his recent hunting trip." She knew he would be furious—part of her enjoyed upsetting him, always assuring her captor that she did not _enjoy_ the man. Part of her feared his swaying moods as it made her visits much more dangerous.

"Oh? What did he kill this time?" He asked.

She stared at the crazed murky eyes stunned, but continued.

"A wolf."

"Oh, monstrous things. Good for the hunter." He replied gleefully.

"Yes, quite…" She was unable to read the not unattractive face framed by grey wavy hair.

"And what were you two _doing_ together?" His voice containing raunchy implications.

If he was going to call her a whore, she would play the part.

"Everything you wish _you_ could do and _more_." Her tone was sharp.

Her only mistake was standing too close to the bars. He seized her neck and pulled her in. Though this was becoming a common occurrence, feared swelled inside of her.

The words were laced with poison as he spoke through gritted teeth.

"You think me a fool, Belle?" Despite her straining, he was able to pull her ear to his lips as he spoke. "I know that you have never been touched by anyone..." he had a surprising amount of strength despite his narrow frame, "… save me."

He waited as Belle felt her chest tighten. The fear was agonizing, his grip on her neck slightly burning.

"Oh, my dear…so _afraid_. I promise this could be worth your while."

She shuddered at the warm breath against her ear, her neck. His grip loosened slightly.

Rumpelstiltskin brought his hand slowly to her collarbone, her breath refused to leave her lungs. Why could she not control her wanton body? It longed for another's warmth. She blamed her consuming loneliness and her damned books. Gaston would always fall short of some standard she had in her mind. Even when he managed to be kind, almost _sweet_, he was not her match. He never could be. He was restricted by his own definition of greatness—his desire to be a man's man only pushed Belle away. They had little in common. She needed someone to be her intellectual equal. And before her was the demon of knowledge and magic and wit. She hated him.

His fingers trailed down, slipping under the collar of her dress. She gulped, but the feeling was exhilarating. She could not hate him. She wondered if this was part of the deal, that his magic now controlled her body's dark desires.

Rumpelstiltskin grinned. He would have her as he wanted, eventually, and she would please him as no other ever had. He had seen fragments of his future and knew that he would take her, no cursed bars to prevent him from claiming her.

She wanted to stop these exchanges, but could not. Those hands, those tainted, greedy, golden fingers would not allow her.

The hand, once holding her neck, now trailed down. The next shudder that would come would not be caused by fear.

…

As she steadied herself, he let go of her and pulled a silver handkerchief from his tight leather pocket to wipe his hands. He watched as the painful realization gripped her.

She could not speak for she knew not what to say. His eyes glared into hers. She wanted to look away. He admired her for meeting his gaze at all. He put his arm through the bars again and she almost took a step away. However, he gently cupped her face and gave a sideways grin, although his eyes looked much less devious than they had before.

"Was that not worthwhile, dearie? Was that not…_satisfying."_

She wanted to scream, to cry, to kiss him. She needed space and time to process what he had done to her.

"Our time is…limited. Go." He said simply.

Words still escaped her, but she needed to find something worth saying to him; as if he cared how she felt in that moment anyway.

"I…I don't know where to go." It was the truest thing she could say. Did she just go home? Did she look her father in the eye and tell him she traded her life for his, only to find that she was capable of pleasure at the hand of Rumpelstiltskin?

She felt like a traitor. A harlot. An unworthy child.

As if he read all this and more, the golden fingers weaved in her flowing brown hair.

"My sweet, go home. Bathe. Sleep. I will not call you for a time." He grinned, his gleeful voice returning with a spark in his eye. "And then you'll _come_!" He laughed at his own perverted joke and she glared darkly at him. He went from happy to caring to a ten-year-old farmer's boy in a matter of minutes. She hated him, or at least she wanted to.

He straightened up, bringing his hands back to the bars.

"You're a pig." She tried to sound as biting as possible.

"No, _dearie_. I am an _honest_ man. I kept my word, did I not?" And in his sing song voice, "'_You've never been touched by anyone…save me.'_ And as I _said_… I made it worth your _while_!" He released a tiny giggle of glee.

She stared at him, perplexed. Was that really it? If she read all of his words, if she could keep up, she would know exactly what he expected, what he had in mind. Would she be able to see what he saw? Was this all just a game to him or was he really that far ahead of everyone in the kingdom? His ability to manipulate drove her into her own thoughts.

"Perhaps you are right." She muttered.

He raised an eyebrow. "_Of course_ I'm right."

She folded her arms, scanning his eyes. "Well then, I'll take your advice. Good day, Rumpelstiltskin." His name tasted strange.

He gave his sideways grin and bowed slightly.

"Good day, Miss Belle. _Always_ a _pleasure_."


	20. Chapter 20

Belle sat on the bed in her room over her father's shop. Luc was busy getting projects done now that he was feeling better. Doc, the Kingdom's number one physician, was still baffled about how the whole healing thing had happened.

Belle stared at the mirror, noting how the lack of sleep was evident in the bags under her currently dim green eyes. Although Rumpelstiltskin had told her to bathe and sleep, the latter was proving to be most evasive. Indeed, she had not slept at all that night, her first after he had stolen—or she had offered—her innocence in the dwarf-made prison.

"Belle?"

Her father called for her from downstairs. She double-checked that her golden cloak was tucked safely away under the floorboard where she had first found it and walked to his shop.

"Yes papa?"

Her dad simply nodded to the tall man standing at the entrance. He was attractive, with wavy black hair falling just above his neck, clear blue eyes and a sharp jaw line.

"Hello, Belle. Shall we?" He grinned.

"Shall we what, Gaston?" She asked.

Her father began to whistle quietly as he worked, trying to remind the pair he was there while also attempting invisibility.

The young man replied, quite sure of himself.

"Go to the ball?"

She stared at him. It wasn't that he was not dressed well for a man from their part of the kingdom—he wore black leather pants tucked into high black riding boots, a loose white riding shirt mostly tucked away under a black vest and a green flowing cape. Still, he was in no way dressed elegantly enough for a ball.

"The ball?"

"Well, certainly not _the_ ball… but 'the ball.' Remember?" Gaston looked at her like her head was in the clouds, a look she was all too familiar with from him. "Tonight, a few villages over? Feasting and dancing in celebration of the coming prince?"

She glanced down at her ring. It did not glow or change, but simply sparkled on her pale finger. Rumpelstiltskin would not pull her away this time, just as he had promised. Standing before Gaston she felt ashamed, but was pretty sure she had no reason to be in _his_ presence. This man had a reputation for taking women to bed after only a few drinks. Certainly he could not judge her rash decision, if one could call it that. She thought her mental capacities had simply gone-out the moment the golden hands lifted her dress. But Belle knew better than to expect mercy from anyone. Hell, even the Evil Queen would probably judge _her_ for the recent events.

"Oh. I forgot. I am so sorry Gaston." She continued to think about the whole damn forest probably thought she was a slut, everything from dwarves to dragons would condemn her as a wanton pile of refuse.

He waited for her to continue, to hear "I'll be ready soon" escape her lovely lips. It did not come.

"Shall I see you there, then?" He tried to smile confidently, but his eyes held growing irritation. Never had a woman been so difficult!

"Perhaps. I need to help my father with a few things." She replied.

Luc's whistling paused a moment. When he realized he had stopped, it picked up again a little louder.

"Fine. I hope you attend, Belle. Good day, Luc." He nodded towards the old carpenter before he turned swiftly and left, green cape hanging limply behind him.

Belle had to admit, he looked good in his attempt at 'noble' huntsman. He could probably afford it with all the poaching he had done lately. Rumor had it he had even destroyed a chimera in another realm. The irony of it all was that, despite how much he killed, aristocracy would always see him for what he was—the son of peasants. Marriage was the only way Gaston could change his life, yet he was intent on courting Belle, a carpenter's daughter. She felt like she was cheating him out of something, except that it was entirely Gaston's decision and she had done little to encourage his advances. There was a time, when they were children, that she had found him the most handsome of all the older boys around. Now, there was little he had to offer aside from good looks, good dancing, and beautiful pelts of poor dead animals.

…

Mr. Gold lay on his side, looking at Marie. She awoke with a small flinch when she saw him staring. He gave his sideways grin. He was still wearing his black suite shirt, although it hung loosely from him unbuttoned.

"Good morning, Miss Dupont." His voice was pleasant this morning.

The suddenly formality highlighted their informal position.

"Good morning, Mr. Gold." She tried to hide her smile, "Was that a _date_ then?"

He raised an eyebrow, "Whatever do you mean, dear?"

"Well… you did not _buy_ me dinner, perhaps…" She saw him recall what she was referring to almost immediately. He had recently made her the most delicious meal, homemade cordon bleu with white wine sauce, dumpling potatoes, and a gourmet salad. Complete with a bottle, or two, of his best wine. Perhaps the latter led to their extended tour of his home.

"Well, when you put it that way…" He kissed her, "Some might consider it as such."

She playfully pushed him away. Part of her enjoyed his high spirits, but part of her needed to know if this was exclusive. She so desperately wanted everything implied in the term "lover" and yet was convinced Mr. Gold could never be that.

He settled for stroking her head, watching his long, slender fingers glide through her silky brown hair sprawled on his pillow, in _his_ room. She looked at his deep eyes, as they were momentarily distracted. She thought they held admiration, perhaps that could become affection.

"What are you thinking about?" She asked.

He looked into her emerald eyes.

"How exquisite you are." His face held more than he had uttered.

"And? That isn't all." She continued, wanting so much more.

He chuckled low. "No, my dear, it is not. But for now, is it not good enough?" He kissed her passionately, shifting on top of her.

Without a second thought her hands grabbed and pulled him in, deepening the kiss. He responded in kind and they stayed that way for a few moments before he eventually lay back on his bed breathing heavier.

"I believe I am in desperate need of rest, my sweet. I simply cannot keep up with you." He closed his eye, large grin upon his lips.

He brought his hand to her thigh and squeezed. The scrape still burnt a little, and she winced through her laughter. He did not seem to notice.

"Did you want me to clean the shop today?" She asked, glancing over at him. Mr. Gold sighed and seemed to think about it a moment.

"Today is yours. Do with it what you will."

She smiled again, kissed him and got up to throw on her blouse.

"Shall I come back tonight?" She asked, pulling on her jeans.

"No, no. I will be at the shop late this evening. I will see you tomorrow."

Though his gaze was intense, she thought he looked lost in his own thoughts.

"Oh. Okay. See you tomorrow then." She gave him a small smile and walked out thinking about how he found her exquisite, and how there was _more_, and began to plot how she could get him to confess what all that meant.

…

Eyes shamelessly stared as Belle took in a deep breath and walked into the main part of the party. She was suddenly surrounded by tables of food and people dancing to the upbeat music. The women, mostly mothers, watched her enter and began to whisper. She had known some of them from childhood—they had always respected, even adored, her father. They had been friends with her mother. They had always thought her _odd_.

And here she was, nothing odd about her long brunette hair in tight curls, or her simple, but no less gorgeous, crimson dress. These women, who had once gossiped that she would die an old maid, wanted her for their sons, at least in theory. By simply looking at her, she was stunning and could shame any royal. However, they still thought her a bit _off_ given her obsession with books and things of _that_ nature. Art was not respected amongst people who had to do hard labor simply to eat. Belle did not begrudge them that. She had dreams, yes, but she did not despise the necessities that faced those in her social class. Sometimes she wondered _why_ she had such aspirations—it could only lead to heartache. She was probably going to end up a mother of five, married to a blacksmith, or perhaps a royal's laundry woman if lucky. As with Gaston, her only way to improve her status was marriage. Unlike Gaston, Belle wanted this in order for her ideas to be taken seriously, her writings to go somewhere other than her beautiful bookshelf. Her father simply could not offer a dowry big enough for that sort of societal promotion.

Belle left these dreary thoughts when she heard the familiar voice,

"Belle! You came." Gaston sounded surprised.

"Yes, I did. I could not ignore my promise." She smiled a little.

"Then you are accompanying me?" He glared at her, eyebrow raised, a little less sure than earlier in the day.

"Yes, I suppose I am." She gave a graceful curtsy as one might at a _real_ ball.

Gaston bowed, black hair falling in front of his face. He stood and offered his hand. She was impressed by his gesture—he was playing the part of suitor well tonight. The pair first sat down amongst others to feast on the roasted duck and grilled vegetables before them. Belle enjoyed the meal, although Gaston talked a little too much about how he had killed the foul on which they dined. After they finished, Gaston stood and offered his hand again.

"It would greatly honor me to have this dance."

Belle stifled a laugh. "I would love to."

Gaston could be obnoxiously masculine, in the sort of way that led Belle to believe he had something to prove, or compensate for. He could be rather ignorant of kingdom politics, history, literature, or the arts. He could be a brute who hunted, drank, and brawled with the rowdiest of folk. He could be a poor listener. He could be a great many things that annoyed Belle.

He was, however, an undeniably brilliant dancer.

As he spun, dipped, and twirled Belle, she felt as though she were flying, soaring through the air with the grace of a springing lark. Whether the music was fast or slow, Gaston's steps were perfectly smooth. He was also a good lead. Belle did not pride herself on her dancing, but he made her feel like a practiced dancer, almost capable of being in a theatrical performance! After a few songs, Belle left the floor to take a break. Gaston followed.

"Is everything alright?" He sounded concerned.

"Fine, fine. Just tired. That was wonderful." She smiled at him with more sincerity than she had ever expected to show towards this meathead of a man.

He smiled broadly. "It was, wasn't it?"

Again he sounded surprised, and again Belle enjoyed it. She liked that he was thrown off by her. Then again, perhaps he _should_ be surprised by her reactions. She did not know what was driving her desires this night. Perhaps it was the recent visit to Rumpelstiltskin, but she was enjoying the freedom she had knowing he would not call on her. Part of her wondered if he had awaken something in her, if she would be like the many other women Gaston had bedded. The thought sickened her as she drank a glass of watered down wine.

"You should ask one of them to dance while I rest." She nodded her head towards two sisters standing near the dance floor. They were almost identical despite their not being twins, or even related.

Gaston tilted his head, trying to imagine how to even approach them. No one split them up. Which would he choose?

"Oh, I don't know about that…"

At his hesitancy, Belle laughed.

"Come on, oh great hunter. Catch a Tremaine sister."

Gaston continued to stare at the girls. They were not unattractive, but they always seemed arrogant, as though they were too good for everyone else. Of course, Gaston did not doubt that they found him attractive. He thought about it a moment and decided it would be a good test. Was his hunting not something that the wealthiest around admired?

"If I can get one of them to dance with me, what will you do?"

Belle paused. She was certain they found him attractive, but thought they would fight over him before allowing one to dance with him. It seemed the poor hunter would come back pelt-less.

"I'll give you a kiss." She smirked, eyes flashing mockingly.

He laughed loudly. "Then it is time to prowl."

As Gaston walked off, Belle shook her head. He certainly behaved as young as he was. The man seemed more like a boy trying to prove himself than an acclaimed hunter. She continued to sip her wine as she watched the fireworks out over the castle in honor of the coming heir to James and Snow White. It was months until the expected birth, but the pair were holding a great banquet and ball for all the most renown guests.

Belle frowned as she thought of Rumpelstiltskin alone in his cell, only able to hear to the celebrations above in the realm of the free. She wondered if he knew what the fireworks were for. If not, he would likely ask about it next he saw her, if he even cared. She had heard he had once tried to take the first born of another royal couple. Although at the time she had thought it strange, since she had gotten to know him better, she began to understand what a first-born child meant. There were many things this man of magic and knowledge could do with an heir at his disposal. If Belle did not have her morals, whatever morals were left after yesterday, climbing the social latter would be much easier. She had read enough books to know how easily it was to manipulate people into believing they were getting what they wanted. Indeed, part of why she had sent Gaston off was to get her much needed space, all by promising him something he could never achieve.

Perhaps Rumpelstiltskin was rubbing off on her. The thought of him _rubbing_ made her blush. Damn him! He wasn't even around and he was still all she could think about! She could never truly be free of him, and if the choice was between Gaston the hunter or Rumpelstiltskin the golden monster, she wasn't sure she wanted to be free at all.

…

"Good evening." Gavin smiled broadly as Marie walked down the cobblestone path, looking elegant in a loose fitted black dress.

"Hello Gavin."

Her eyes twinkled in the moonlight as she took in her date—dashing in his modern style grey suit and green shirt. She recalled his very contemporary kitchen and wondered if everything about this man was hip and fashionable. Although he was dressed well, it did not speak of wealth and elegance as Mr. Gold's attire often did. Gavin looked like a city man whilst Gold looked like 'old money,' although he would refer to himself as a "business man." Marie mentally shook her head at herself. It would be a _very _long night if she continued to compare the two men.

They drove to the opposite side of Storybrooke where a new bar had been added and a few trendier restaurants struggled to stay alive in the small town.

"I was thinking sushi." He said while parking.

Marie nodded. "Sushi sounds good."

They dined on an eclectic assortment of rolls, taking breaks every so often for a shot of sake. As the meal came to a close, the once flourishing conversation became tense.

"So, Marie, what is this deal you've got with Mr. Gold." Gavin asked bluntly after downing his last shot of sake.

"What do you mean?" Marie took a sip of her coke, trying not to sound conspicuous.

"I mean… I know you work for him, and I know you'd rather be at school. With your father sick and all, I figured, you know, Mr. Gold must be paying his bills and what not too?"

Marie wanted to sigh but kept it inside.

"Oh, yeah. Mr. Gold is helping with my dad's bills." She was growing irritated.

"What does he get out of it?" This guy would not relent.

"I think it is an investment." She was in awe at how fast the lies began to fall from her mouth. "If my dad gets better, Mr. Gold gets the money he owes him. If my dad passes, well… Gold is out."

Gavin wasn't fully convinced. "Sure, but Gold loses more money now for potential of some money back later. Why? He doesn't usually work like that."

Marie stared at him, frustrated that he continued to push the subject. "Yes, well, Mr. Gold is good at waiting for what he wants I guess. I don't know…" She tried to sound like she did _not_ know how _good_ he was at waiting, or at getting what he wanted.

"Besides, how do _you_ know how he _normally_ works anyway?"

She waited for Gavin to answer, but instead he took a bite of sushi. Marie wished they could go back to talking about high school or interesting legal cases Gavin worked on or some of her book ideas. Why Gold? She was beginning to feel like the man was inescapable.

Gavin looked down at his empty plate. He could not avoid her question forever.

"I'm a lawyer right?" He said simply.

"That's what you told me…" She replied, clearly exasperated.

Gavin did not play along but continued, "Well, I work with business law—insurance type stuff, mostly."

"Right… this isn't new to me. I mean, it is _new_ as in _today_… but we've gone over this already." She stared at him, wishing he would get to the point.

"Yes. I've handled cases where people prosecute Gold claiming 'outlandish' things against him."

Marie raised an eyebrow. That was new.

"You've gone against Gold?"

Gavin nodded.

"And?" Marie stared at him. He finally met her gaze.

"Mr. Gold won. He always wins." Gavin rested his chin on his hands, waiting to see how she would respond.

She was not surprised. Her mind began to try to comprehend what Gavin was implying, but the sake made that difficult. She made a mental note to revisit the conversation in the morning when she felt more alert.

The topic changed to Marie's father in the hospital, to silly doctors, to Gavin's recent house purchasing decision to childhood career aspirations to the latest episode of _Parks and Recreation_. Marie was glad to have changed the topic from Gold, and enjoyed the way their conversation flowed easily from subject to subject. Gavin was smart and witty and obvious about how much he liked Marie. It was a nice change.

Gavin kindly paid. Normally Marie would have convinced him otherwise, but she did not have much money and Gavin seemed keen on doing so. It was neither a check for nor against him, but a fact to consider later, should this dating thing continue. He had some value for traditional roles that Marie was not sure she could agree with.

Still, when he offered to walk her to her door something inside her was a bit gleeful.

"I had a lot of fun tonight." She smiled at him, thinking about how good he looked in that well fitted button up.

"It was. Shall we do that again?" He smiled back, blue eyes intense as he waited for her response.

"Yes, I should think so." She replied.

He jokingly let out a sigh of relief and Marie laughed, grabbing the door knob.

"Great. Well then, have a good night Marie."

"You too Gavin."

A few awkward seconds passed until he finally turned to go. Marie opened the door to her father's home. She found her way to her room and fell asleep rather quickly with a mind foggy, presumably from all the sake.

Her dreams were, however, much sharper.


	21. Chapter 21

A woman who looked like Marie, adorned in a simple blue dress from the medieval time period and a golden cloak, walked towards a pair of guards. Marie, who could see the woman as if she were floating along behind her, wanted to shout not to go that way because the guards looked honed to kill on site. The woman passed by the armored men, however, as if unseen. Marie followed her doppelganger down the cavernous path. It felt familiar.

Soon Marie _was_ the woman walking. She looked down and could see her hands, the golden sleeves of the cloak hanging loosely, and a beautiful but simple ring on her middle finger. She, in the body of the woman she once saw, was now getting closer and closer to a dungeon cell with sharp spikes for bars. The cage looked like the jaws of some devouring monster. She could make out a figure in the demon's mouth, sitting upon an uncomfortable cot.

"Back so _soon?"_ The voice was low yet calm as murky eyes stared at her. She could not see the face in the shadows.

Marie responded as if she knew what to say, "_You _summoned _me._"

"Ahh, I suppose I did." The figure stood and walked to the bars. The light revealed leather boots, black leather pants tight to his legs, a loose fitting crimson shirt, and a tight scale-like leather vest. The figure made Marie's heart pulse fear through her veins.

"Who are you?" It was as though Marie broke through the dream, seeking answers. She could not quite see his face hidden in the shadows.

She heard a high-pitched gleeful cackle as he said in a silky voice, "Is our secret safe tonight?"

She tried to make sense of the words. She thought she heard him say more. He was drawing closer and closer to the light of the torches, but it was as if his face was under a mask, except those large caramel irises. Marie strained to hear his voice, it was soft but growing louder.

_Is our secret safe tonight?  
And are we out of sight  
Will our world come tumbling down?  
Will they find our hiding place  
Is this our last embrace  
Or will the world stop caving in…_

"_It could be wrong, could be wrong, but it could've been right—"_

Marie smacked the alarm with the desire to dismember the stupid electronic device. The damn thing woke her just as she was about to see who or what the creature was. She wiped the sweat from her brow and took in a few deep breaths. The dream had felt so… so real.

"It was only a dream." She mumbled to herself as she dressed for work. The need to comprehend the dream flooded her mind as she headed to the pawnshop.

A few blocks from home, she heard her name being called.

"Marie!"

Ruby ran down the steps of the diner to meet her.

"Hi Red." Marie felt anxious to get to work and started to regret last night for the stress it was now causing, though dining with Gavin had been somewhat enjoyable.

"So, bag a high school crush or what?" Red grinned.

Marie's eyes darted to her friend's as she grabbed Ruby's arm and pulled her to the windowless side of Granny's diner.

"Ow!" Ruby whined, rubbing her arm once her friend released it. "What's gotten into you?"

"Shhh! Ruby, how did you know about Gavin?" Marie's voice was quiet, laced with fear.

"Why? What's wrong?" Ruby's countenance fell as she registered her old friend's fear.

"Come on, Ruby."

"Ok, ok. I had to deep clean the diner… I saw you two at your door when I was walking to the inn. What's the big deal? It's a small town anyway, it's not like you were eating out in complete secrecy." Ruby stared at her friend through her full lashes.

Marie's anxieties no longer felt unfounded—who else knew about her date with Gavin? One man in particular was on her mind and she felt a sudden chill.

"Ruby, don't say anything to any one, okay?"

"Come on, Ree-Ree. What is going on? You're being ridiculous. So what if you went on a date." Red was clearly irritated by Marie's strange behavior. Either she was hiding something or she was overly intense about first dates. Whatever the cause, Ruby thought her actions overly dramatic.

Marie shook her head.

"Ruby, don't tell anyone. Just, keep it between us? I can't tell you everything, but just don't talk about Gavin. Please. I'm late for work."

Marie left Ruby to stare after her, arms crossed, red lips pouting. Marie wanted to tell her, she really did. She was, however, convinced that if Archie could not know about her and Mr. Gold, no one could.

Marie hurried to the shop. Mr. Gold had not been very strict about her hours since she started "working" at his house. Still, something in her told her that today could, _would_, be different. When she arrived, the door was already unlocked and her heart stopped.

Mr. Gold was not in the front portion of his shop, and she let out a sigh.

She walked to the glass case near the back and put her purse down. As she bent over, something caught her eye. She had never noticed it before, but in the jewelry case was a simple gold ring with a fine cut sapphire set in it. She rummaged through her bag for the keys to the lock.

"See something you like?"

She accidently dropped the keys on the floor, and stood to look at Mr. Gold who had just appeared from his back office.

"Oh, that ring…I, I hadn't noticed it before." She tried to recover as she glanced at it then back at him. The ring looked similar to the one from her dreams, but she did not think that information pertinent to anyone but her.

He gave her a sideways smile.

"Yes, simple but _c'est tres belle_, is it not?"

Marie smiled and nodded in agreement. Mr. Gold walked over, bending down to retrieve her keys. When he straightened, their bodies were almost touching.

He held out the keys for her. She grabbed them slowly, unsure of herself. He maintained his sideways smirk as he spoke.

"So, dear, what did you do with your day off?"

She returned the keys to her purse, forgetting about the ring. She grabbed a bottle of glass cleaner and a rag and started wiping down the counters. She tried to steady her voice and appear nonchalant when she replied,

"I spent some time at the hospital. Got dinner with a friend. Read."

Mr. Gold watched her move away from him. As she created distance, his smile deepened, causing lines to crease on his face.

"Oh? Read anything… _interesting?"_ His voice was steady, although his fingers tightened around his cane.

She realized she had expected to lie about which friend she was out with, not which book she read. She gulped as her mind raced for something to say. Glancing around the shop, she found her answer.

"Uh, yeah. I decided to re-read _Peter Pan_." She continued to clean, feeling Mr. Gold's dark eyes watching her work. As the mention of the impish boy, he glanced to the wooden statue in the corner of his shop. He gave a knowing smile, though Marie did not notice.

"Yet another English classic. Did you read it as a child?"

Marie paused at the mention of childhood. She had some memories of her youth—Ruby, her father, having a crush on Gavin. She had always been well read. Indeed, she was almost certain she had at least skimmed every book that the small Storybrooke library had to offer. She had always just _known_ books. She recalled stories easily, even minor details. She could not remember, however, when she first read any of them. Aside from those she had read for college, the rest were all a blur.

Her mind combed through the fragmented memories.

"Yeah, I think so."

Mr. Gold raised an eyebrow.

"You don't remember?" He asked.

She shrugged. "I mean, I've read it so many times." The foggy feeling she had the night before returned, but this time she could not blame the Japanese liquor. What was wrong with her? She brought a hand to her head, feeling dizzy.

"Are you alright, Marie_?"_ He took a few cane-assisted steps towards her.

She sat on a carved wooden chair, one that her father had sold to Mr. Gold. Her emerald eyes glanced up at Mr. Gold. He seemed concerned, aside from a flash in his deep eyes.

"I… I think I'm fine."

"Are you _sure_?" He took a few steps closer, enough to bring his cold, long fingered hand to her forehead. The contact made her shudder.

"You are feverish. Let me take you home."

She tried to remember the books she had read. She tried to remember playing with Ruby. She tried to remember Gavin. It was all cloudy, as if a haze had fallen upon her memories. The more she thought about them, the more she realized she never had been able to remember things very specifically. They had just always _been_ that way. She had always been friends with Red. Her father was always sick. She had once had a crush on Gavin. Mr. Gold was always feared.

"You need to rest, my sweet."

He offered her his hand and she took it and he helped her to her feet. He walked her to the back of his shop, where his car was parked, as she leaned against him for support. Although it made walking more difficult, and might look suspicious to onlookers, Mr. Gold did not mind her _fragile_ state.

Marie did not realize that they were at his home already. As he helped her from the car, he stroked her long, brown hair. He smiled at her as he turned to walk towards the door. Her eyelids struggled to stay open, and eventually she gave up the fight.

Marie's mind had a delay as she tried to register the events unfolding. She trod on the familiar sand stone path to the grand oak doors. She heard keys jingling. She touched the wooden banister up the stairs to his room. She felt cool hands removing her dark red blouse and black slacks. Mr. Gold helped her step into a pair of gray sweats and pulled one of his own black undershirts over her head. He helped her into his bed.

As sleep took her again, she did not hear the man beside her say,

"Sweet dreams, _Belle_."

…

Author's Note: Hey all! Thanks for reading. Love the reviews, they encourage me to keep adding the story.

Also, I totally tripped myself out with this one… waaay before Peter Pan was even a character, I reference him here (because of the statue in Mr. Gold's shop on the show). It's fun to see the small details that weave in and out, even a year after this story was originally written.

RNR!


	22. Chapter 22

Marie battled to open her eyes. She had no idea how long she had been out. She glanced about the all too familiar master bedroom; it was lit only by the hallway light. She felt the sheets and black down comforter curled around her. She glanced out the window overlooking the forest. It was evening. She noted the sound of rushing water, the shower was running—Mr. Gold was there.

The fogginess had mostly left her mind, but she still did not know what had made her feel so dizzy and sick. As she tried to remember things, only one memory came to mind.

…

Marie sat at the counter of Granny's, sipping a cappuccino and reading the local news. Nothing particularly interesting, aside from the mayor's continued promises to cover the old mines. Regina was even beginning to propose what could be built there instead. Marie thought it all silly, considering there had never been anything too new in town as long as she could remember. Restaurant row was the most recent addition, and the new eateries had simply replaced older, run down stores. She felt irritated that this huge project—building a mall from the ground up—was all being planned while her father was recovering. Had he been well, this would have been just the thing he needed to get back on his feet. And she could go to school somewhere, far from Storybrooke. At the notion of leaving, she began to think about Mr. Gold and their conversation about sacrifice at one of their last luncheons.

She heard the door open and she jumped, expecting it to be Mr. Gold in the flesh. He would be along shortly for yet another monthly luncheon. Marie had not been keeping track, but she was sure they were more frequent than that at this point. She thought he just liked to see her squirm in public, or perhaps he enjoyed saying "Miss Dupont."

"Hello sheriff." Marie smiled at the scruffy, messy haired man who had just entered.

"Hello Marie. Is this seat taken?"

She shook her head and slid the newspaper away to make more room. He sat at the stool beside her.

"How are you doing?" She asked him, noticing the way he slumped a little as he sat.

"Tired." He gave her his soft smile and Ruby brought over a cup of Joe, making flirty eyes with the town's no longer solo officer. With Emma in town, he had a deputy once again. Marie laughed at her friend's shamelessness and Ruby winked at her before retreating into the diner's kitchen.

"Late night with all the crooks running amuck in Storybrooke?" She smirked at him, and he gave her his 'please stop talking'. She couldn't help but think that his eyes made him look like a puppy.

"Alright, no jokes with you this morning."

He took a gulp of coffee and began playing with the mug. Marie watched him out of the corner of her eye. His fidgeting seemed indicative of one who was weighed down by something.

"Need to get something off your chest?" Marie didn't realize that she had lowered her voice even though the diner only had a few patrons, most well out of earshot.

Graham took another gulp, before he spun on the counter stool to face her.

"Do you ever feel…trapped?" He asked.

Marie raised an eyebrow. If _only_ he knew. She had been sleeping with Mr. Gold a few weeks now. Some days she felt like her body would explode from need of him, others she felt like she wanted to curl up and mourn the choices she had made that led to the current circumstances. Each day brought a thousand questions about what she was doing and each night left them unanswered as she lay under him, over him, beside him, against him.

"Sure, who doesn't in this dinky town?" She took a sip, unable to fully meet his gaze. Graham was a kind man, but sometimes he got that intense look in his eye like he was a hunter chasing after some poor creature.

"Yeah. It's probably just restlessness…" His accent truly was charming. "I mean, you've got a lot of issues."

Marie glared at him with her 'what the hell' expression. Graham tried to maneuver his way through the conversation. He was lucky he was cute.

"I mean, you have a lot going on, with your father." He added. "I'm sorry. I wanted to ask before…how do you deal with all of it?"

A small frown came to her lips. She dealt with it by sleeping with the town's resident demon so that he would pay for everything. Who was she kidding, he intrigued her, mesmerized her. She often had the feeling that even if it wasn't part of their arrangement, she would willingly do the things she did with him. Of course, there was the town to consider, and her dear papa. What would they say and think? And he was not the affectionate or romantic type, and unless you count the glorious things he did with his tongue, he was not particularly _kind_ with his words. She wanted to feel loved, but for now she would settle for feeling anything with Mr. Gold.

"I carry on. There is nothing to do but move forward." Metaphors were sparse in her mind as she was distracted by the thought of the pawnshop owner.

"We make our bed, we gotta lay in it too." She concluded.

At her clichéd phrase, Graham had a resigned expression, and Marie couldn't help but pity him. Whatever he was dealing with was clearly taking its toll.

"Thanks for the coffee." He nodded to Ruby who had come back hoping to eavesdrop. She was too late as the Sheriff stood to go.

"And thanks Marie. That was… well, what it was." He struggled to smile, gave a simple head nod and left.

Ruby eyed her friend suspiciously.

"I'm keeping my paws to myself." Marie jokingly put up her hands in surrender.

Ruby laughed, "Good. What'd you talk about anyway?"

"Nothing. He is just having a rough day." Marie replied.

Ruby watched Graham make his way down the street, the longing in her eyes was comical, as was the frown on her painted lips. Ruby too had a glint in her eye, like a wolf on the prowl. Marie wondered what could make Graham, such a kind and genuine man, feel so isolated. She had her own reasons, but what could be so hard for a good looking guy like him?

"Poor guy." Ruby muttered as Graham walked out of sight.

Marie nodded. "Yeah, poor guy."

…

Marie was, indeed, stuck lying in the bed she had made.

Mr. Gold appeared at the door to his bathroom, clad only in a black towel. His dusty brown hair, still wet, gave him a mangy look that made him appear, for once, less than elegant.

"Ah, you're awake." He smiled.

"How long was I asleep?"

"A little over twenty four hours. I tried a kiss, but alas, you still did not stir." He grinned as he took slow, un-aided steps to her side of the bed.

She seemed upset by the answer.

"You just left me here, feverish and sleeping?" She vocalized her protest to the maltreatment, suddenly fearful of how sick she must have been.

The grin deepened.

"Dr. Whale came by last night and again this morning."

As he drew near to her, Marie turned on her side to make a place for him where her legs and stomach curled. Realizing that he cared about her wellbeing made her want to be near him. She cursed herself for being so easily won over, but here he was—flesh and bone, present, caring. As she thought about what he had said about trying a kiss, she remembered all the fairy tales about "true love." Sleeping Beauty, Snow White, all awakened by their prince's kiss. Mr. Gold was no prince, but he could be caring, in his own way. He sat on his bed, and Marie continued.

"Dr. Whale came _here_?" She asked.

"Of course. I was not going to bring you to that hospital… with all those people. Dr. Whale is a man of… _discretion._"

He brought a hand to her arm and slid it up under the sleeve to grab her shoulder.

Marie glared.

"So _he_ can know but no one else?"

Mr. Gold leered at her, sending a chill down her spine. He withdrew his hand and brought both to his towel covered lap. He looked from Marie to the window facing the forest.

"You want _others_ to know?" He asked.

Marie wasn't sure what she wanted. Did she think others knowing about them would make it _feel_ more like a real relationship? Did she want to hide it to see what could happen with Gavin? Gavin… He was cute and available and fun, but that was dangerous. Mr. Gold would end their agreement instantly. And though she feared her father's condition, she also did not want to lose Mr. Gold. Marie began to feel sick again as she tried to think about it all. Mr. Gold turned back to her and saw that her eyes were now closed.

She made a small groan, "I don't know what I want."

He smirked.

"_Rest_, dearie."

At least she was pretty sure she wanted that.

He brought a hand to her forehead. The fever was gone. As he moved his hand, she grabbed his wrist and nuzzled her cheek into it.

Mr. Gold's reflex was to pull away, to leave her wanting. She _deserved_ it, and it would reinforce the power he had over her. But the poor girl had recently fallen ill, no doubt due to some issues remembering her _true _past. She was vulnerable and she longed for him; he would not make her deal with this alone.

She opened her eyes to register his expression.

His smile was barely evident now.

"Are you happy, Marie?"

She looked at the ceiling, paused, then replied,

"At times." It was an honest answer.

Although she no longer held his wrist, he continued to stroke her cheek. At his tenderness, a tear came to Marie's eye. Mr. Gold's sideways grin re-appeared, although she did not notice. He bent over her and planted a soft kiss on her lips. Her breath caught, heart racing. Her body was responding to his touch as it always did. When he pulled back, he smiled broadly.

"That won't be very _restful_ my sweet."

She stared up at him, slightly resigned.

"I don't care."

Her tone was less than pleasing, but he had a few things in mind for her. Mr. Gold slowly lifted the shirt over Marie's head, planting another small kiss on her lips as he tossed it to the floor. His hands quickly got to work making her squirm. Marie was unable to interpret all she saw etched on his face, but somewhere, for the first time, she thought she saw more tender sensibilities.

As he removed the last article of clothing, he could now gaze at the gorgeous woman before him unhindered. Marie found herself, once again, with a mind full of questions she wished to ignore. As if he sensed her anxiety, Mr. Gold brought his warm hand to her cheek playing with a lock of her hair.

"There _can _be happiness in dark places."

He brought his slender finger to trace her lips. Mr. Gold kissed her passionately, though less forcefully than usual. His hands kept exploring her body.

As he continued to kiss and lick and bite, Marie felt his warm hands brush against her. She could not help herself when she held his face, emerald eyes meeting dark brown. She captured his lips in a kiss, with hopes to communicate that she wanted this, this part of him that was gently caring for her. He deepened the kiss as they continued their lovemaking.

When they finished, he collapsed on her, chest heaving. It took him longer than usual to collect his breath. In the meantime, her arms were wrapped around him as she continued to kiss his neck.

When he felt composed enough to speak—the fact that he had been momentarily thoughtless not escaping him—he rolled to his back.

"Are you happy here, my dear?" He asked.

She rolled to her side in order to face him. He tilted his head to look into her eyes.

"Right now? Inexplicably yes."

She rested her head upon his shoulder as he continued to breath deeply. He brought her arm across his chest, palm resting over his heartbeat. He _had_ a heart. She was starting to consider it was larger, figuratively, than he made it seem. Though he would not reveal it easily, what she had just experienced told her there was more to him. He held her in his arms, smelling her hair. It no longer carried that deep cherry blossom scent—it had a crisp _clean_ smell to it. As she drifted off to sleep, he grinned.

She was _his_.


	23. Chapter 23

Marie found herself in the bedroom of Mr. Gold. The man, her lover, was once again nowhere in sight. She looked to his side of the bed, seeing where the blankets were pulled back; his spot was still warm. Glancing to the clock on the bedside table, she saw a piece of stationary with a note. The thin long strokes made her smile, it was so like him.

_Good morning, Dear. When you are decent, come join me downstairs for breakfast._

As she held the piece of paper in her hands, nude in Mr. Gold's bed, she was unable to stop the laughter that escaped her lips.

She took a quick shower to feel refreshed, it had been a long stint in bed. Feeling much more awake, she grabbed a pair of her jeans that were folded atop his dresser and one of his deep red dress shirts. Smelling his 'mountain fresh' detergent, she walked down to the kitchen.

The charcoal suited man before her was once again over the stove and clad in his apron.

"You look so… domestic." She continued to smile as the smell of sizzling bacon met her nose.

He glanced over to her, raising an eyebrow, grin planted on his thin lips. His dusty brown hair draped his face as usual. Marie's eyes twinkled at the fond memory of his lion's mane hair the previous evening. Mr. Gold was glad to see her in high spirits.

"What about _me_ leads you to believe I am incapable of providing for myself… or others?"

His tone made Marie feel slightly jilted by the remark. He seemed to perceive her quick change in mood. As he handed her a plate he added,

"My dear, it is _always_ a pleasure to cook for you." He smiled, watching her walk to the bar counter on the other side of the stove. She sat on the stool, placing her plate in front of her. He put a slice of quiche on top of it.

She took a bite, smiling again.

"I'm glad. You are a _very_ good cook."

He cut himself a piece, grabbing a few strips of bacon as well.

"Your compliments are too kind." He said as he turned off the oven and stove, walking around to sit beside her at the counter. He leaned his cane against the chair as he lifted himself onto the stool. He rubbed his right leg a little as he spoke.

"I enjoy working in the kitchen, mixing ingredients to create something _magical."_

"I said nothing about _magic_." She teased, but the grin told him otherwise. "How is your leg this morning?"

She was sure he was in pain as he replied with a grimace, "After all the _aerobics _last evening, I should have expected it to be sore."

Marie set down her fork and brought a hand to his leg. At her gentle stroking, his deep eyes shot up to meet hers.

"And what do you think _you_ are doing?"

She shrugged, "I could massage it for you."

He lost the fight against the coming smile. His voice was soft, lightly accented, but not stern. "That is not necessary."

Looking at him, she felt worried that she had done something wrong. However, memories of previous encounters came to mind and she looked at him with confidence.

"It is not _necessary_, Mr. Gold" Adding emphasis to make her point quite clear, "It is my pleasure."

Mr. Gold stared a moment before he leaned against the back of the bar stool and closed his eyes. Her fingers began to work on his leg and he felt a tingle in his spine. She applied the perfect amount of pressure to help the muscles relax and yet not to add to the irritating pain. He slowly opened his eyes to look at her. She had moved to the floor and was concentrating all of her attention on his calve now. His eyes danced as memories of her went through his mind.

After a few minutes, she sat back in her chair, "How does it feel now?"

"Much better, my dear, much better." He looked at her, eyes filled with wonder. He couldn't stop thinking about how she was always so kind and gracious, no matter how he responded.

They ate their quiche, talking a little bit about the mayor's decision to pave over the mines and Emma's position as deputy sheriff. Marie recalled Mr. Gold's interest in Emma, but during their conversation, he seemed much more interested in Marie's thoughts on the whole thing.

"I don't know, I guess I just expected Regina would have fired her by now, given all the stuff with Henry." She took the last piece of bacon. "Do you mind?"

"Not at all." He watched her take a bite, and suddenly wanted nothing more than to have her on the kitchen counters. He really _loved_ being in the kitchen with her. However, given he had other various errands to attend to that day, he thought it best to keep his composure.

"Perhaps Regina is a believer in keeping enemies close." His voice was silky smooth.

Marie thought he looked contemplative.

"I guess. But to what end? Certainly Emma doesn't _really_ intend to take Henry. Why not let the birth mother back into his life? I mean… adopted kids tend to have many issues with that in the long run." Bringing her elbow to the counter, she rested her chin in her hand and stared at the kitchen cabinets, admiring the dark washed mahogany.

"I'm sure _any_ child who loses a parent has any number of _issues_ in the long run." Mr. Gold's eyes were dark.

Her gaze returned to him. "What are you implying?"

He did not want her to be defensive, and he was not only talking about _her_. "Simply that _you_ lost your mother at a young age. Your father has been sick since you can _remember_. Yet you seem to have very high expectations of yourself."

H made her feel transparent, she could only stare back in response.

Mr. Gold added, "You cannot _save_ everyone, that is a great burden."

As she sighed, he rested a hand on her knee.

"Why do you do that?" She asked.

"What do you mean, my dear?"

"Read me? Like a book? Am I really so obvious to you? You seem to know me inside and out." She shared exasperated.

"Well, of course I know you _inside_." He grinned and she playfully shoved his shoulder.

"I'm serious." She said seriously.

His smirk tilted a little as he spoke.

"Oh, dearie, I can assure you—I know a great deal. But you? You are still a puzzle to me." He stood slowly to grab his cane, kissing her forehead. He was about to grab their plates when she commented.

"I'll get them." She scurried over to the sink.

"In that case, I must be going. If you would close the shop this evening, I need to stop by the inn."

Marie knew he meant that he needed to collect that month's payment from Ruby's grandmother. At the reminder of his power, the feeling of being trapped returned. It was less about their agreement and more about everyone's perceptions. Still, though he had proven he could be gentler and kinder, at least in bed, he was a hardened businessman.

"I'll be there." She watched him as he leaned into his cane, heading towards the front door.

"Grand. Good day, Marie."

"Good bye."

Part of her wanted to say "my love", if only to call him something other than Mr. Gold. She didn't even know his first name. Everything seemed a bit alien to her. How could she spend _months_ with this man, to be simply content calling him "Mr. Gold" like everyone else? She knew things had changed since she originally started her job at the shop, yet she still knew so very little about him. And he seemed to know _everything_ about her.

As she heard the door close and the car start, her anxiety returned.

GAVIN!

She had not called or texted him since their date. Had he tried to get a hold of her? Had Mr. Gold answered her phone? Her heart began to race and she dropped the ceramic plate she was drying.

As it broke into chunks and dust on the floor, she realized her recent bliss had shattered into a thousand pieces.


	24. Chapter 24

Belle sat near the candlelit lamp in her father's workshop skimming a letter from a friend who lived one kingdom over. He was informing her of Midas' recent conquests and the many knights who were killed so that the gold-handed man could add the head of a sea serpent to his collection. Midas sickened her—no man should have that much power and wealth. Then again, did not Rumpelstiltskin have his own share of power? The golden cloak on the bench beside her told her as much.

She heard a knock on the door. Given the late hour, she picked up her father's hammer on her way over to the door.

"Who is it?" She asked, leaning against it.

"Gaston."

Recalling the deal she had made with him earlier that night at the ball, she her stomach churned. She had promised a kiss if he danced with one of the golden haired look-alikes.

"What do you want?" She asked while opening the door.

Gaston's broad chinned face held a large grin revealing pearly white teeth; it was the smile girls always swooned over. Belle stared at him, waiting for a reply.

"I danced with the Tremaine sisters." He replied.

Belle noticed that his eyes held a flash she had seen only once before, and then it had been in the murky eyes of Rumpelstiltskin. Deep down she knew Gaston had come to claim his prize.

"Both of them?"

"Yes." He stood straight, broad shoulders back. He was so confident.

"Well then, I guess our deal is off."

"What?" His spine lost some of its straightness as he leaned forward. His once almost gleeful countenance turned to stone.

"You said—"

She took a page from her _keeper's_ book.

"I said catch _one_ Tremaine sister. Not two."

He took a step forward, and she instinctively took a step back.

"I'm sorry, Gaston. The point was that the pair would be inseparable. They would get jealous. The feat was to dance with _only_ one. Not both." Her voice was more frantic than she would have liked at that moment.

Gaston folded his arms and furrowed his brow. He was thinking, trying to keep up with all that she was saying. The look on his face reminded Belle why she had no desire for the attractive man before her, however good of a dancer he may be. He was far too slow.

He dropped his arms to his sides.

"I did not realize how much of a _trickster_ you had become, Belle." Something in his tone told her that running would not be a bad idea. She took a few steps further back. Unfortunately, a sprint to the stairs would probably be futile. Gaston was far too athletic for her.

"Oh, well…learned from the best?" She tried to smile. He knew she did not mean him. Gaston had no use for 'childish' pranks, even in his youth. And words were certainly not his forte. He was at least smart enough to ignore her comment. Belle realized she _had_ learned a thing or two from the best; just because the best was locked up in a cage under the castle did not mean he was _caught_.

She recalled the golden cloak she had kept near her that night should her master call for her. She took a few steps back towards the bench, while Gaston took determined strides forward.

"You will keep your end of the bargain, Belle. You will not make a fool out of me." He was close enough to grab her, as she well knew. She slowly slid her hand behind her to grab the golden cloak.

"Gaston, only _you_ are responsible if you look a fool!" She spat.

He lunged for her, grabbing her shoulders and capturing her lips in a rough kiss. Belle struggled to push him away but could not. When he finally let her go, there was something akin to regret on his face.

"…Belle, I…"

But before he could say anything more, she had draped the cloak over her, vanishing from sight. Gaston reached where she had once been, but felt nothing. He spun about trying to find her but it was no use. She was gone. He yelled after her.

"Belle? Belle! Where did you learn magic? Belle, I will find you!" His words laced with rage. Any regret at pushing himself on her was erased by her trick. He truly hated being made a fool.

Under the protection of her cloak she left the small village and headed for the only place she could feel safe from Gaston.

The dungeon.

…

Marie finished up with the dishes and changed into a pair of sweats. She needed to see Gavin, and figured this would be the fastest way. So she put on her headphones and started her jog.

A few minutes into her run, she began singing along.

"_Nothing heard, nothing said, can't even think about it  
On my life, on my head, don't wanna think about it,  
Feels like I'm going insane, yeah._

_It's a thief in the night to come and grab you  
It can creep up inside you and consume you  
A disease of the mind, it can control you  
It's too close for comfort_

_Put on your pretty lies, you're in the city of wonder  
Ain't gon' play nice, watch out you might just go under  
Better think twice, your train of thought will be altered,  
So if you must falter, be wise._

_Your mind's in disturbia, it's like the darkness is light"_

She began to see the curved path that led up to Gavin's house and stopped her melodic accompaniment. Soon she was at his door knocking.

"Marie?"

He answered the door clad in washed jeans and a tight fitted dress shirt. He stared at her as she breathed deeply after her brisk jog.

"Hi Gavin. I uh…" She took a deep breath. "I wanted to apologize."

"I thought something was wrong… did I do something wrong?" He looked concerned.

"Well, something was wrong. I was sick." He responded.

"Oh, right." He rolled his blue eyes and folded his arms; she could tell he was upset by the whole being ignored thing. Maybe showing up was a bad idea.

"No, really. I was. I'm sorry Gavin." Some of Marie's hair hung loosely in front of her face, falling out of her ponytail. She brushed it behind her ear as her eyes pleaded with him.

Gavin watched her a moment

"If you say so." He forced a smile. "Glad you're suddenly well enough to run." His eyes were cold and Marie continued to regret her decision.

"I was passed out for over twenty four hours." Her voice was no longer pleading but factual, annoyed that he did not believe her.

"Really? And what _illness_ caused that, pray tell?"

"Don't know. Dr. Whale wasn't sure." She answered curtly.

The concern returned to his face, but Gavin refused to voice as much. Instead, he gave a shrug.

"Well, I guess that's what you get from Storybrooke's medical staff. Can't expect much from this po'dunk town."

"Is that what you tell _your_ clients?" She teased, although the thought of clients made her mind wander back to Mr. Gold. She needed to stop things with Gavin before he found out. That way, if he did ask, _when _he asked, she could say it was just dinner with a friend. Couldn't it have just been dinner with an old friend?

If that were true, what was she currently doing at his home? She was sure spinning a mess for herself.

"Ha-Ha. No. I tell them that I _left_ this place to get a higher education. I returned to make sure people here were taken care of properly."

Marie noticed there was something in Gavin's face, always the do-gooder. It was as though he had returned to protect the people here, if not to make a name for himself. Why did he care so much about the people of Storybrooke and what they thought of him anyway? Even in high school with his athletic prowess he was destined for an Ivy school on a full ride scholarship. Add in his intelligence and charisma, it made all the sense in the world that he became a lawyer. Yet, despite his high achievements, he returned. What could made Graham feel so trapped in a place that Gavin freely returned to?

"That's quite noble of you. If I had graduated, I'd be long gone by now." Her sudden resignation caught him off guard.

"Is everything alright, Marie?" He let his compassion seep through.

"Yes. I'm fine. Anyway, I should probably get back." She gave a small smile.

"To your run?" He asked.

She hesitated just a moment too long.

"Yeah." She started to feel dizzy again. _Damn_.

"Where did you park? I can take you back. You seem a bit tired."

She shook her head. "No, I walked from my house. Started jogging in the woods by Mr. Gold's estate." She figured half-truths were safer than blatant lies in her current state. Her mind began to feel foggy and she could not keep up with the words that would come from her mouth.

"Can I take you home?"

She was about to protest when she nearly fainted. Gavin caught her.

"I changed my mind. That was not a question: I _will_ drive you home."

Gavin lifted her up and carried her to the car. He really was a gentleman, muscular to boot. As he buckled her into the passenger seat, she remembered Mr. Gold's gentle care when she had become ill at the shop. She then recalled how they had made love—the only time she would call it that—and she smiled as she looked out the window at the many trees they passed on their way to Main Street.

She was floating in and out of consciousness when they came to the small road in the central part of town. It felt like lightning had hit her spine sending her to sit straight up—Gold's pawnshop was right next to them. She glanced over, praying that he was inside or out with "clients" for the late morning, perhaps getting an early lunch. As she scanned the area, there was no sign of him, and she sighed, relaxing a bit. She needed to remember to go and lock up at some point in the evening.

Gavin pulled up to the second stop sign on the road. He was about to go when someone decided to cross the street. Archie was taking Pongo around for his walk. Marie smiled as she watched the friendly Dalmatian sniff Gavin's car then continue walking.

Marie's heart stopped.

Heading their way on the perpendicular crosswalk was Mr. Gold, with his deep, dark eyes locked on Marie. His face was a cold mask that caused her stomach to twist.

_Shit._

…

AN: hahaha, wait and see ;)


	25. Chapter 25

AN: Thank you for the reviews! You all keep me going, well that, and the drama. Gotta love the drama ;)

…

"Oh, poppet… having a bad night are we?"

Belle was not surprised to see the gold-skinned fiend smiling at her, eyes ravenous as always. Why she thought coming here was a good idea was now beyond her comprehension.

"Yes." She said bluntly.

He chuckled, throwing his head back. He then stuck his slender finger through the bars, motioning for her to come towards him. She stepped closer as she removed the golden hood. When she was within reach, he stroked her brown hair. The grin slowly faded.

"Did he _hurt_ you, Belle?" He asked.

She shook her head and he cupped her cheek.

"Good." He grinned, displaying his grimy teeth.

Tears came to her eyes as she looked away from Rumpelstiltskin. Why did she want him to know? He would despise her for going to the ball with Gaston. Rumpelstiltskin was her only companion, if she could even call him that. She spent more time with him than anyone except her sick father.

"Tell me, _dearie_, what happened?"

"Gaston, weeks ago… he asked me to go to the feast a few villages over. I had agreed then because, well…" She met his gaze. His glare was intense, but there was no malicious glee to be found. His eyes were still cold, but he waited for her to answer. He seemed to hang on her every word.

She began to cry, and he shushed her.

"There, there, poor girl." His voice cooed in her ear, squeezing her arm gently to comfort her.

Belle forced herself to stop crying.

"I… I don't think I'm strong enough to do this." She looked at Rumpelstiltskin, and his face turned to stone.

"You _cannot_ break a promise, Belle." His voice was stern, but no less gentle.

"Well that is the point!" She almost shouted and he released her, grabbing the bars instead. "I promised Gaston I'd go with him. So tonight I went. And I told him that if he danced with one of the Tremaine girls, Cinderella's sisters, I'd kiss him."

Rumpelstiltskin squeezed the bars tighter, leaning into them so that his face peaked through.

"_And?"_ He stared at her, his gaze unwavering.

"And then he came to collect on that promise too. But he had danced with _both_ sisters." The messy haired man before her had the hint of a grin once again.

"So I told him that wasn't the deal." Tears came to her eyes again, and she wiped them away before they could leave their wet trails on her soft cheeks.

Rumpelstiltskin brought a long-nailed finger up to his face as he let out a little squeal of delight. She stared at him.

"You find that funny? That he got upset and… and kissed me?" She asked, glaring at him.

"Oh no, dearie," His voice was low and gave Belle a chill, "the humor is in how you _think,_ not in how that _dolt _chooses to respond." The pitch of his voice went high at the end, and if Belle was not so used to it she would have been afraid.

Belle stared at the caramel eyes, knowing that he was entertained by the 'deal' she had made with the hunter. She had used words to trap Gaston, to avoid him without directly rejecting him. Unfortunately, that is not always a good idea.

"And why did you come _here?"_ He raised a hand, gesturing to the dungeon.

"I… I had nowhere else to go to be rid of him." She said.

"But my sweet, you could have run _anywhere_ in that golden cloak. Under its cover, he cannot _find_ you." His wavy graying hair hung in his face that was now creased due to his broad smile.

She had no answer. She had thought Rumpelstiltskin would be more comforting. Or he would be angry that Gaston had touched her at all, and seeing his rage would satisfy her need to react. Standing before the man, she felt nothing. His gentle caresses were gone, and now he was simply the one who owned her body and mind, not her heart.

"I thought…"

"You'd find… _comfort?_" He smirked, but his eyes held no joy. "I am what I am, dearie." He stood, one leg in front of the other, arms open wide and chest out, gesturing to himself.

"And for the time being, this is all that you will get." He added.

There was pain and loneliness deep within her, but as she looked at the gold skinned face, she saw his furrowed brow and small grimace, as though the words that fell from his slick tongue sickened him. She thought she heard sadness in his voice.

"And you are a man of your word." She added, slowly losing her grip on the present as her brain raced to understand what all of his words meant—particularly his use of the phrase 'for the time being.'

"Yes, yes, Belle, I certainly _am_."

…

Marie sat against the passenger seat consumed by fear.

Gavin glanced over to Mr. Gold, who waved to the pair. He walked up to the vehicle, aided by his cane. Gavin rolled down the passenger window so he could speak to the older man.

"Good day, Mr. Gold."

"Hello, Mr. Stone. _Miss Dupont_." His deep eyes lingered on her a moment before turning back to the young lawyer.

Marie could not even croak out his name, but nodded in recognition.

"Marie has taken ill. I thought I'd drive her home so she did not have to walk."

"That _is_ very kind of you. May I ask what happened?" His face was covered with concern, his tone laced with empathy, but the flash in his eyes told Marie all she needed to know.

"After a run to my house." Gavin sounded matter of fact, but if Marie had been looking in his direction she would have seen the small grin form upon his lips.

"Ah, yes. Running after being ill is not a good idea, is it dear?" He gave her a small nod.

Gavin spoke before Marie could say anything.

"Sorry, Mr. Gold. It's my fault. I told her to swing by so we could catch up. She was in the neighborhood, so she did. I'm afraid the run from the woods near your place was just too long for her." He smiled at Marie, but his eyes watched Mr. Gold as if the man carried a foul stench. Marie, however, was very much aware of his crisp clean scent; she could smell it given his proximity to her. Mr. Gold was practically leaning on the car door, hands resting together atop his jet black cane.

"Yes, it _is _quite the run. Well, convenient that you were home." He gave his half smirk.

"Feel free to take all the time off you need, Marie. I wouldn't want you to work if you do not have the _energy_."

She knew well what _work_ he spoke of. She wished she could explain, but with Gavin sitting beside her, that would be impossible.

"Thank you, sir." She looked at him.

Her eyes were pleading, and she willed everything in her expression to voice 'it's not what you think!' But alas, the elegant gentleman before her was either unaware or willfully ignorant of her desperation.

"Get well,_ dear_." And he stepped away from the car. Gavin gave a quick wave and drove down the street.

Marie watched as Mr. Gold's reflection became smaller in the door's side mirror. He stood in the distance, both hands still resting on his cane, staring as the car turned down Marie's street. When he was out of sight, her first thought was to recuperate, because her next course of action would be taking the short walk to his office to work things out.

Given how anxious she was, she wondered how long she would need to rest before feeling ready to have _that_ conversation.

Gavin dropped her off, but she was able to convince him that she was well enough to walk into her house unaided. He at first refused to leave, but her persistence caused him to cave.

"I'll check on you later." He added.

She responded, much in need of a nap. "That's okay. You don't have to. I'm fine."

"But I will anyway." He smiled broadly, driving away.

…

Marie tried to sleep and mostly failed. In and out of the strange dreams of forests and caves, she could not get her mind off the encounter with Mr. Gold. Tired of tossing and turning, she left her house and headed towards the diner. She wanted comfort from Ruby, would perhaps drink a ginger beer to help her stomach, and magically muster the courage to confront the pawnbroker.

"Hey girl." Ruby said, handing some customers their food—Archie and Henry to be precise.

Marie could not smile, and her voice revealed her exhaustion. "Hey Red."

Ruby raised an eyebrow. "You okay?"

Ruby was well aware that something was up. Her friend had been so forceful the other day about not saying anything about Gavin. Yet earlier that day she had seen the pair drive by the diner. Ruby wanted her friend to come clean, mostly so she could help, but partially because she didn't like being out of the loop. Ruby had a tendency to know more than she should given her job as a waitress at the town's main restaurant. Everybody spent time there, and often pretended like it was more private than it really was.

"Well?"

"Hello Marie." Dr. Hopper said kindly, although Ruby was annoyed by the interruption. The waitress wanted to curse herself; she had fallen into the same trap as everyone else. This was _not_ a place for secrets.

"Hi Dr. Hopper. Hey Henry."

"Hi." Henry said, but was more concerned with his cheeseburger at the moment.

Marie looked back at Ruby. "Can we talk a minute?"

Ruby left the table where Henry sat with Dr. Hopper.

"Sure? Can I get you anything first?"

"Ginger ale would be nice." She smiled for the first time.

Ruby gave a quick nod and headed to the back, returning swiftly from the kitchen with a bottle of the cold beverage. She removed the cap and put it on the diner's counter in front of Marie.

"So, what's shakin'?"

Marie took a drink, trying to think of the easiest way to explain things, or rather the simplest, without divulging too many details.

Behind her the little boy muttered to the psychiatrist, "Which character is she?"

Unbeknownst to Marie, Archie shrugged, and got that skewed look on his face he often had while thinking.

Marie finally answered Ruby. "So… I've been working with Mr. Gold a while. And today…he saw Gavin drive me home. He didn't _seem_ angry."

"Why should he be? You're just an employee, your romantic life is none of his concern." Ruby gave a stern look, like she would kick the man someplace that would give him a different sort of limp should he come near the diner any time soon.

If only Ruby realized how ironic her statement was.

"Yeah… but he thinks he owns everything." Marie couldn't tell the truth flat out, and she felt guilty painting Mr. Gold in a bad light. "Anyway, I need to talk to him about it. And I'm afraid."

Ruby could tell her friend was anxious, but she also wondered a little about what else was going on. She said nothing aside from an "mmhmm" and wiped down the counter.

Behind them, Archie smiled at Henry. "Are you sure _everyone_ is a character, Henry? Is it possible _regular _people sneak in every once in a while?"

Henry shook his head furiously. "No." He said with more confidence than a little boy normally would. "Don't you see? She is too connected to Mr. Gold to be nobody, cuz Mr. Gold is definitely _somebody_."

Marie glanced over her shoulder at the little boy who gave her an awkward sideways smile.

Mr. Gold was indeed _somebody_. Marie's curiosity would have driven her to talk more to Henry if it wasn't for her own pressing matters and imminent demise.

She continued to drink when Ruby got that sparkle in her eye like she had an idea.

"Tell him you're just old friends."

Marie shook her head. "Mr. Gold reads me too well, he would know I was lying." She sighed, finishing the ginger beer faster than she intended. Damn. Now she _had_ to go meet the man. She glanced at the clock—3 PM. If she could wait a _little_ longer, he may leave for dinner and she could accidentally "miss" him. She rejected the idea quickly; she needed to meet him at his shop. While she was having a hard time making a lot of decisions, this one was obvious. She would not hide nor would she live in fear of him anymore.

"I guess I should go then. Maybe…" she paused, and Ruby leaned on the counter.

"Yeah?"

"Maybe I'll just tell the truth." She couldn't help but think that honesty with Mr. Gold would be the only thing to get her anywhere at this point.

Behind her, Archie had a knowing smile. He never did approve of lying.

"Anyway, bye." Marie stood to leave.

"I still don't think it's his business… but good luck, Ree-Ree." The gorgeous waitress smiled as her friend left Granny's.

Ruby caught the tail end of Archie and Henry's conversation.

"She has to be _someone_. Come on Archie, what do you think?"

"Well, uh… her father is sick? She works for Mr. Gold. Is it possible she is some princess down on her luck?"

Archie stared at the wonderful boy before him. Henry had the grandest imagination, and even if it was delusional, the boy's crazy ideas had helped Archie to regain some sense of self down in the mineshaft weeks ago. A delusion was only a bad thing if Henry became too old or his belief system became too dangerous, to himself or others. Given that Emma was able to save them both after the recent cave in, Dr. Hopper had conveniently overlooked the careless risk Henry took going into the mines in the first place.

"I don't know… maybe? Things are so different in this world." He slumped in his seat, discouraged.

Archie smiled kindly, and though Ruby had never been interested in the good doctor, his skillful interactions with the boy were admirable, and kinda cute.

"Connections will take time to make, Henry. There are a lot of people and there are countless fairy tales from all over the world. Just give it time."

The brown haired boy brightened. Because of Emma, they _had_ time. As he drank his cinnamon topped hot chocolate, he found joy in the fact that _his_ mom would be the one to save all of Storybrooke.

At that moment, the clock tower chimed for three o'clock. Indeed, because of Emma's presence, things were no longer frozen in Storybrooke. But these were deep secrets Henry could reveal only to those _in_ on operation Cobra.

…

Marie walked hesitantly, but was at the door to the pawnshop faster than she felt ready. She took a deep breath as if leaping from a high dive, and pushed the door open.

Mr. Gold wasn't in the front portion of his shop. She passed the cluttered figures and trinkets, his desk beyond the glass counters, and headed for his back office. He was furiously writing up what looked to be a contract. He looked up at her, a mix of anger and something else to be seen in his eyes. His tone, however, was even and did not betray a thing.

"I told you not to come until you felt _able_ to work here." He stared at her and then went back to writing. Marie got the strange feeling that Mr. Gold was not just upset that Gavin was with _his_ "property." He sounded jilted, like a jealous boyfriend.

"I'm feeling better." She said quietly, large green eyes bordering on tears. She fought them to the best of her abilities.

"Really?" He looked at her. "You're all well again? No more secret outings with Mr. Stone? No more… _dates_."

The spark in his eyes sent a chill down her spine as her mind registered his words. Jealousy was a malicious mask for Mr. Gold.

She shook her head. "It wasn't a date." She gulped.

"You are a _terrible_ liar, my dear." He held a grin at bay, for now, though it tugged ever so slightly at his lips. His pause let the words sink in.

Slowly. Almost.

_There_.

She gasped.

"You _knew?_ That night, the scrape. You knew?" Fury was bubbling up inside of her. He had manipulated her that night. Was everything after that a lie? The night in his room when he took her softly, was that all just a trick? Had he really _played_ her like a fucking piano, press all the right keys and produce the expected melody?

He smiled freely now.

"Of course I _knew_, dear. I make it my business to know what is happening with my _clients_…" He stood, grabbing his cane, "In _my_ town."

She stared at him, fists clenched at her side making her pale knuckles practically glow white. She had decided that day to end everything with Gavin. But now… what now?

"Well look at you." Her voice was colder than she had ever heard it before. It startled her. Mr. Gold merely looked amused, though rage was still set in his eyes.

"Big _king_ of this little, worthless town. How does it feel to _own_ such a pathetic place?"

Mr. Gold took a few steady steps forward. Marie wanted to back away, but she held her ground. She had to. Despite her better judgment, she continued to speak.

"You manipulated me into screwing you. Into caring about you. Into…into wanting more with you. So what? So you could have me in secret? So I could be trapped in a loveless relationship? Tell me, do all your _clients_ get deals as good as mine?"

He smiled.

That startled her.

"Oh, Miss _Dupont_. You are going to claim harassment now? Tell me, can you even remember all the times, all the _ways_, we've been together? Do you honestly expect me to believe you did not _enjoy_ them all?"

His words were calculated. He took a step forward so that she could feel the warmth of his breath as he spoke. He quickly grabbed the back of her neck, forcing her to look him in the eye.

"As I recall, _you_ asked _me_ that first time, in this very office. '_Please._'" He grinned, revealing devilish dimples, his voice just barely holding steady.

She couldn't find any words to say. He was right. He was always right. He knew. He had even known she would appear right now. Earlier that morning he had said that she needed to close the shop. Here she was, arriving about the time she would to clean and manage things so he could tend to other matters. He always knew. Her eyes filled with fear and he chuckled.

"You knew. You knew everything." She repeated herself; any other thought failed her.

He tilted his head sideways. He willed her to see, to understand how it was he knew all, but with cursed eyes one cannot see, and this gorgeous woman before him was still so _blind_.

"Why?" Tears filled her eyes and she could not stop them this time. They trickled down her face.

Mr. Gold wanted to wipe them off, to kiss her, to stop himself from speaking. But there was something in him, something he knew all too well, that refused to be restrained. He had made his own compromises in life, and he was living with the consequences. And here was the one to end it all for him, and he could not stop the words that came.

"Because… _I can_." His grin faded slightly. All this power truly felt like a curse as he watched her give way. She lost the will to fight. She leaned into the man standing so close to her, resting her head against his chest, and started to sob. She wanted to leave, but he still had a grip on her neck. What else was she to do? So she turned to her cruel captor for support. It made no sense to her, how this one person who could hurt her so was the one person she wanted, needed. It was as if her soul was bound to his, and she hated it.

As she cried into his suit, he let his cane drop to the floor with a loud clunk, wrapping his now free arm around her back. He kissed her neck and she let out a cry.

She pushed him back, he released her, and without his cane he stumbled into his desk. She stared at him with the intensity of a lioness on the prowl. Part of her needed him. Needed him to understand her, to care for her, to one day _love _her. But part of her, the part she would give into for once, told her that this man was a monstrous demon like everyone had said. He was a liar, a cheat, a manipulative bastard who just liked to mess with her. So when she spoke, she mustered courage via seething hatred.

"My father is getting better. He will be leaving the hospital in a few days. I'm _done_ working at your home."

And though she was finally able to speak confidently, physically she could no longer handle such close proximity to him. She wanted him, needed him to be more. Deep inside, she knew that _he was who he was_. He could never change, not even for her.

In the second before she turned to leave, she saw remorse etched through his face—his brow, his eyes, his lips—furrowed, contemplative, frowning. She walked away briskly. This time, he would not stop her. This time, she would make a decision of her own accord. He may own the town, but he did _not_ own her.

Mr. Gold watched her walk away, out of his shop and out of his life. He slowly bent forward to retrieve his cane. That look in her eyes caused him to remember another life, another time when she had called him "monster."

Hearing the door close behind her, he wondered if it was all too true.

_Beasts_ do not find happy endings.


	26. Chapter 26

Tears flowed freely as Marie stood by the dining room table, clenching her shirt, trying to grip her racing heart. The scene continued to unfold before her eyes—he knew. He _knew_. _He_ knew.

She saw images of him in her house everywhere she want. He was at the table when she was no more than sixteen, making a deal with a minor. Did he know then? He stood at the door having returned years later to inform her of her new employment at his shop to pay off the debt. Did he know then?

Marie's mind was playing tricks on her. As she stood she could have sworn she heard knocks on the door.

It took her a while for her ears to register: someone was indeed knocking on her door. Air quickly filled her lungs in a short gasp.

_He's back!_ She had a small smile. He came for her. He _loved_ her! After all that, he was going to fight for her. Despite her confidence when she left, she knew what she saw—it pained him to do and say the things he said and did. He _regretted_ the interaction. And so the 'owner' of the town was back to apologize to _her_.

As she opened the door, she could not stop her entire countenance, her demeanor, from falling once again into the pit of despair.

"Gavin?"

She felt foolish for such high hopes. Mr. Gold did _not_ love her. He would _never_ apologize. The thought returned to her that he was who he was. He would not, could not, change.

Gavin first noticed the tears, then the frown, the slumped shoulders, and the generally unkempt look of the lovely young woman before him. Empathy kicked in, he felt sorry for her, knowing not the cause of her distress.

"Marie? You, uh, you don't look very well." He tried to smile, but it was taking all of his concentration to not step forward and hug her.

Marie cleared her throat to prevent it from sounding too crackly, having cried a good deal.

"What are you doing here, Gavin?" She asked.

"I'm here to check on you." He glanced over her shoulder to see if anyone was around, just in case. "May I…come in?"

She nodded and allowed him free passage. She closed the door slowly behind him. As she heard the gentle 'click,' her mind's eye saw Mr. Gold leaving all those years ago. She had been so impressed by his elegant appearance, quick wit, and his aura of mystery. She had been such a silly, _naïve_ girl.

"So," Gavin turned to her, "What's going on?"

"What do you mean?" She was irritated by his pushiness, but glad someone cared about her, if not the man she truly wanted.

"Come on, Marie. I'm not _dumb_." His eyes sparkled as he took her in again. "You've been crying."

Marie reflexively wiped her cheeks to remove the tears, though her eyes were light pink and glistening from their recent display.

"So what if I was?" She realized she was not making this easy for the man, kind enough to drop by and check on the "sick" Marie.

The exhaustion was plain to see as Gavin plopped down at the dining room table. Marie had the sudden revelation that he had been _worried_ about her since he left hours ago.

"I'm sorry Gavin." She pulled out a chair and sat next to him.

He shook his head, black hair falling in front of his crisp blue eyes.

"It's okay. I just… I wanted to make sure you were alright." He gave her a small smile. He was glad to see she returned it.

"I'm…I'm not alright." Damn them! Those stupid tears were back in her eyes before she could even try to fight them off.

Gavin's hand was on her shoulder. Though it made her feel better, ever so slightly, it did not stop the waterworks. The last time she had sat across from a man at the table crying, it had been Mr. Gold. He had handed her his handkerchief.

Seeing her weep tore Gavin apart. He felt unexplainably drawn to her, and wondered why he had never been interested in her when they were children. He was sure the age difference had something to do with it then. But now? Now she was a beautiful woman clearly distraught, and he wished he could scoop her up into his arms. The thought did not escape him, however, that she may be crying over someone else. He hoped, he prayed, it was just her father's illness.

"Marie… please. You can tell me." His voice was soft and kind.

Inside her, Marie was sure that for Gavin's own safety she should not divulge everything. She could not stop the feeling that she needed to be at least a little honest with him, though she hated her conscience for suggesting such a thing. Somewhere in Storybrooke, Dr. Hopper must be smiling.

She spoke between gasps and small sobs. "I… I broke up with someone… and… and I thought I loved him, or was starting to." The tears fell again, and she could not meet Gavin's gaze.

The man across from her took a deep breath, but did not remove his hand from her shoulder.

"That…sucks. I'm so sorry Marie." Despite his own pain at this new piece of information, Gavin continued to selflessly comfort her.

He did not ask any more questions. He would squeeze her shoulder in assurance, but for the most part he simply allowed Marie to cry in his presence. She was grateful for the company, however awkward it felt. She could not have told her father, because he would not have been ok with knowing "someone." He would want to know everything. Marie wished she could sort out _why_ she always needed someone. Why she wasn't happy on her own, or why she didn't invest her time making or rebuilding deep friendships. Men had a ridiculous pull on her life: her father's illness, Mr. Gold's deal, and now Gavin's kindness.

When she was able to have the weeping subside, she walked to blow her nose in the bathroom and dab her eyes with a wet washcloth. When she returned, Gavin was standing.

"I have to finish a few things up for the case I'm working on… but I'm always just a phone call away." He gave his small smile. "I know we aren't that close, Marie. And I know we probably have our own things to talk about some day… but I am here for you. Whatever that means."

Marie watched him, stunned by the kind gesture, but trying to set that aside.

"Thank you, Gavin. I'll keep that in mind. And… I am sorry about…

He raised a hand. "As I said, we can talk about all that another time. For now, just rest."

Marie nodded. "Thank you."

She watched as the attractive lawyer left, closing the door behind him.

Though it was still early in the evening, Marie desperately wanted to escape everything the best way she knew how—she needed sleep.

…

Mr. Gold made the short walk from his shop to Granny's inn. When he arrived, he was met at the door by Ruby, wearing more clothes than he had ever remembered seeing: red and black plaid pajama pants and a see-through white tank top.

"Good evening, Ruby." He had never felt the need to use "miss" in front of her name. Considering at least a few men in Storybrooke were on far more _familiar_ terms, there was no felt need for formalities.

"Mr. Gold." Her lips were held tightly together, her eyes sharp, arms crossed over her flat stomach.

"I'm here to collect my _payment_." He was in _no_ mood to deal with Red today. Her attitude, which he often let slide, would perhaps break his calm nature if he were not careful.

"Yeah?" She pulled the tight wad of cash from her pocket. "Is that what you told Marie too?"

Ruby knew better, but her desire to protect her friend kicked in. Though Marie did not reveal everything, Ruby had certain suspicions about Mr. Gold's desire for her, after all those luncheons where his dark eyes always stared at Marie and his thin lips constantly battled to hide that devilish smirk.

Mr. Gold's long, slender fingers wrapped around the payment and brushed against Ruby's hand.

"Marie is none of your concern, _dearie_." He slowly took the money and placed it in the inner pocket of his charcoal suit jacket.

"She's my friend. Of course she is_ my_ concern." Mr. Gold hadn't made any threats yet which put Ruby on edge. He was being mildly _tolerant_ of her behavior and she wanted to know _why_.

The thin lips curled into a half smirk.

"I realize. But as you well know, _my_ affairs are _private_ matters." His intense gaze sent a shiver up Ruby's spine as she stepped away to close the door. Mr. Gold turned to leave, but paused a moment, looking back at the slender waitress.

"And Ruby, if you should ask your _friend_ anything at all about my dealings with her, I'll see to it that the generous _discount_ I've been giving your grandmother no longer applies." His grin was in full view now, and Ruby's jaw clenched. She loathed the ruthless man before her. Mr. Gold walked off leaving the brunette to worry about Marie, knowing that there was absolutely nothing she could do to help her now.


	27. Chapter 27

Belle sat alone in the forest in her golden cloak, invisible to all the eyes of the woods, silent to their ears. The cloak did not, however, protect from noses.

She turned quickly, hearing a growl. It was low, deep, and she was instantly consumed with fear.

Her eyes met a wolf. It sniffed, coming close enough to push its wet black nose against her knee. Belle's breath caught as she stared at the creature. Although she was invisible, it looked her in the eye.

She heard a man's voice calling for the creature, when through the trees emerged a hunter.

He did not dress like Gaston did to pouch some poor creature. This hunter wore the skins of animals as a coat. Noticing that his companion was standing, nose pointed in the air, the hunter spoke in a rough voice,

"Hello? Is anybody there?"

The wolf looked at the man, then back to where Belle sat.

The man walked forward to pet the top of the white wolf's head. He was close enough that if he reached forward, he would also touch Belle.

She breathed as silently as possible. The hunter pulled out his bow and an arrow. The tip grazed Belle's cheek and she let out a small utterance in pain.

She quickly removed her hood the moment the hunter began to say,

"Show yourself!"

And so a body floated in the forest of the beautiful brunette maiden—well, former maiden. The hunter held his bow at the ready, staring into the emerald eyes of the woman before him.

"Who are you?" His voice was still harsh sounding, but something in his face removed a little of Belle's fear.

"My name is Belle." She wiped the small trickle of blood from her cheek. "I am daughter of Luc the Carpenter in the nearest town." She removed the rest of the golden cloak to reveal her plain cream-colored dress underneath.

"Why are you in _our_ woods." He asked sternly.

Belle smiled as the man said 'our.' She had a certain fondness for animals ever since she was a very young girl.

"I'm… I'm just clearing my head." She sighed, and sat back down on the log, unafraid.

The hunter returned the arrow to its leather quiver and strapped the bow to his back. The young woman seemed distressed, but he could not feel particularly sorry for her—he had no capacity for such _feelings_ anymore.

He stared at her, and crossed his arms. If the Evil Queen knew about her enchanted cloak, the _witch_ would want it for herself.

Finally, the hunter spoke again. "Where did you get that cloak?"

Belle instantly regretted her sudden sense of safety. Cautionary instincts kicked in, and she had every thought of throwing it over her and running. If this hunter wanted it for himself, it would be the end of her. If she freely gave it to him, she would have no way to visit Rumpelstiltskin, and it would be the end of her father.

She stared at the man with large eyes that glistened as they held back tears of fear or anger or desperation. Mixed with these emotions were others, he noticed, courage and conviction.

"Sir, you cannot take it, for my life belongs to another. Should you steal this cloak from me, I swear to you it will be your _end_." She said with a silver tongue, or perhaps it was _gold_.

"No. I will not take it. But answer me. Who gave it to you? Magic like that is…restricted." He tried to sound less threatening.

She gave a small smile.

"You are _persistent_ hunter. Well, I got it from the most powerful man in this realm… who happens to be locked in a cage." She smirked as the hunter's eyes widened.

"_Rumpelstiltskin?_" He gawked, quickly realized what he was doing, and closed his mouth. If only this girl knew how much they had in common, for though she did not voice the imp's dealings, the hunter was forming a theory.

"Well then, I should not like to mess with it, or you." He pet the wolf's head again, and the creature started to walk off in another direction.

"Belle, be careful… monsters like him will trap you forever." The hunter sounded sad.

She looked at the hunter, and began to wonder more about what his particular story was.

"Thank you, huntsman. But… I'm afraid it's far too late for me."

A few months later, the pair would find themselves lost in a world not their own.

…

Marie was rolling about in her bed, sweating. The source of her turbulent slumber was the dark images flashing through her otherworldly dreams.

She was running through the woods, being chased by something or someone. Suddenly, she was caught in the arms of the gold-skinned man who often plagued her dreams. Her back was against him so she could not look into his face. Whenever she tried to turn to see, his hands would grab at her waste or breasts or thighs to hold her firmly in place.

Marie awoke feeling hot and quite bothered by the figure in her dreams. As she drank a glass of water, she tried to think about things more logically. She almost laughed at her own stupidity as she began to psychoanalyze the images. She had recently been reading some of the Grimm fairy tales, so the woods were no surprise. The man with _gold_ hands who was always talking to her, calling to her, and most recently feeling her up, was none other than _Mr. _Gold. She did not know how she had avoided the connection between his name and the dream figure's golden skin.

She began to suspect that if she could not escape Mr. Gold even in her sleep, she would certainly develop a case of insomnia, depression, or schizophrenia. Perhaps a quick 'catch up' conversation with Dr. Hopper would be helpful. Then again, the gentle-hearted psychiatrist might analyze too much for his own good, and then where would she be?

No, there was only one person she could talk to about any of this—Red. Ruby would understand. Ruby wouldn't judge, she had 'matured' quickly and been called many things by many women around town. Marie had always been a good friend to her, though they had a few years that more or less lacked communication.

Convincing herself that telling Ruby would be okay, Marie dressed and left her small house, which had felt oddly large having slept in it alone.

…

Mr. Gold just finished wiping a glass case when he heard the shrill voice behind him.

"No _Marie_ to clean for you, Mr. Gold?"

He did not even turn around to fully to acknowledge the well-dressed woman now in his shop as he stood to set the old rag atop the case.

"And what can I do for _you_, Madame Mayor?" He asked.

He grabbed his cane and held it in front of him with both hands, letting his fingers curl and re-curl around the top.

"Oh, nothing. I just heard a certain young woman has a tendency to jog in the woods by your house. Don't you find that _odd_?" Regina had her ruby red lips curled into a smile.

Mr. Gold's deep-set eyes glared at the menace before him like a bug to be splattered.

"I hear there are many trails out that way. However, I wouldn't _personally_ know." He gestured to his injured leg, then put his hand in his pocket.

"Of course you wouldn't." She took a few quick paces forward, red heals clicking against the wooden floor. The sound irked Mr. Gold to no end.

"I told you," she crossed her arms over the grey short-sleeve sweater she was wearing, "certain _deals_ are frowned upon in _my_ town." Her dark eyes sparkled with victory.

The dusty haired man was fast becoming tired of the mayor's intrusions. He of course knew a way to prevent further provocations. His mind went back and forth on the issue. How _polite_ would he be?

"Dearie, _my_ arrangements are _my_ business. Should _you_ need anything of _me_, I am willing to consider such assistance." He took a step forward aided by his jet-black cane. "However, your _meddling_ no longer amuses me. So ask that you _please _stay out of my matters unless they concern you." His dimples appeared as his thin lips parted into a thin smile.

Fire burned in the mayor's dark eyes. Regina glared at him.

"I knew it." She muttered.

"Knew what, my _dear_?" Somehow that word meant something entirely different with Regina than it had with Marie.

"Oh, nothing that concerns _you_." She smiled, having thrown his words back in his face. "Good day, Mr. Gold." The mayor left quickly as the older man stood in his shop. He hadn't realized that his knuckles were beginning to turn white as he gripped his cane. He would find out what Regina knew, especially if it pertained to Marie. The girl didn't need the mayor chasing after her for Gold's secrets. No, he would see to it that everyone left her alone. He would have her again, one day. _The mayor be damned!_


End file.
